Forever Night
by Noxburry
Summary: When 17 year old blind and psychic Claire Winfield captures the attention of the vampires of Bon Temps, an unlikely friendship changes her world forever.
1. Chapter 1

Ch 1

Pam was checking ID's at the front of Fangtasia as she usually did, wearing the same bored expression on her face as every other night. She was unusually annoyed on this particular night due to the surplus of underage blood bags. After telling the tenth underage human to leave, she became curious. She wondered if it was someone undermining their business, trying to get them to serve minors.

When the eleventh one that night came up, her ID obviously drawn-on in a poor attempt to make Pam think she was 21, she decided to find out. She moved her eyes from the card in her hands to the girl, who was fidgeting while looking at her, her expression excited and anxious, waiting for Pam to let her in. Pam locked eyes with the girl, and her mind became like putty in her cold hands.

"Why did you come here tonight ?" Pam asked, her voice taking a soothing, hypnotic edge.

"School let out today, so all the juniors and seniors are lookin' for fun." She said rather matter-of-fact as Pam rolled her eyes.

"So why come here?" Pam continued, not satisfied with the girl's answer.

"We thought, with y'all being vampires an all, you might be willin' to serve minors. Do ya?"

"No, we don't." Pam told the girl, pursuing her lips. Eager to rid herself of the insolent girl and her trashy hoop earrings, she sent her home. The next hour passed the same way, with her sending more minors home then allowing adults in.

In the corner of her eye she spotted a group of people, most of which she recalled from nights before. She casually caught one of the regular's eyes andnodded her head, beckoning the group into Fangtasia.

Inside, loud music was thumping, and a sea of sweaty bodies were pressed up against each other, grinding, shaking, and pulsing. The group Pam had ushered in tried to remain cool. One boy in the group was attempting to shake off a girl who had a fistful of his shirtsleeve in her hand. She looked intrigued with everything around her, but at the same time, frightened. She suddenly realized that the boy was trying to unpeel her fingers from around his sleeve so she gave him a dark scowl.

"You promised you would take me here when I graduated Kevin," She whispered angrily.

"I said I would take you here Paige. You're in now, so leave me alone!" His last word was enunciated by the fact that he had managed to rip her away from his shirt while she was focused on his face. He sidestepped away from her, smoothed out the slightly wrinkled sleeve, and after one final hard look in the eyes, he mouthed the words "be safe", and disappeared into the crowd.

"God, he's such a jerk sometimes!" She huffed, facing the remaining three in the group. "What happened to your sister, Roy?"

"She left to go to the bar with her boyfriend" Said Roy, who obviously wanted his older sister hanging around him just as much as Paige wanted her older brother around.

"What should we do then?" Asked Paige nervously, crossing her arms to reveal her electric blue nail polish on her freshly sunburned skin.

She had never been quite sure about going to a vampire bar in another town, but she wouldn't let her brother tease her for being a wimp, so she swallowed her fear and came with him. "Claire?" She asked.

A taller girl stood to Roy's left, her left hand place lightly, but solidly, on his slightly horizontal forearm, as if he was a lifeline. Her light gray-blue eyes were looking in front of her, vivid below her dark bangs.

"Hmm?" She hummed in response, turning only her head to face them, her long dark hair swinging slightly; she had been tuning out her companions until the sound of her name brought her back.

"I was just asking what you think we should do." Repeated Paige, her voice calm.

"Well, what is everyone else doing?"

"They're dancing, I guess." Answered Roy.

"Well, that's probably what we should do then." Said Claire, as if the answer was obvious.

"What about you Claire?" asked Paige.

"I don't think it's safe for you to go out and dance. It's totally crowded, and you wouldn't have a partner to dance with," She quickly grabbed her boyfriend's arm, tugging him close to her; it just _wasn't _cool for three people to be dancing together, especially when the majority of the dancing would be _grinding._

"Take me to an empty table, you guys go have fun." Claire told them lightheartedly, with a fake smile on her face so they wouldn't see how left out she felt. She still didn't know why she even felt this emotion, she should be used to it by now. Only her school helper ever called her, but she knew that was because she pitied her. She tried to remember the last time she had gone out with friends, but found her memory blank.

"No, no. Claire we are _not_ going to leave you alone in a vampire bar!" She lowered her voice, "They could _eat you_ and you wouldn't even know until it was too late!" Paige stressed, her voice getting nasally and high pitched , a sound that made Roy's head begin to hurt.

Paige had real concern for her friend. She hadn't known her for long, and truly she had only invited her along because her other friends had bailed out last minute, but she still wasn't going to leave her alone. Claire's face had lost her smile though, and her eyes had tensed.

"I am _not_ completely defenseless Paige." She snapped. Gosh darn it, she was not going to be blamed for ruining their graduation night. "If you think you are going to sit with me and miss all the fun you have been waiting months for you're wrong. Now you can either take me to a table and go dance or I will find one myself!" With that, Claire took her hand off Roy's forearm and crossed with her right arm in front of her chest, waiting for their reply.

Paige was taken aback by what Claire had said. _She should be thanking me for even bringing her sorry ass down here. I would have been perfectly content to come down with just Roy, but no. Kevin demanded that I bring a third, and that we were safer in threes, as if it is a flippin' war zone or something. _ Paige narrowed her eyes at Claire, and grabbed Roy's hand.

"Fine. You can go find your own table. Let's go Roy." She pulled on Roy's hand, forcing him to come with her into the crowd. Roy looked back at Claire, her scowl still on her on her face, and her gray eyes facing them as they left.

_Poor girl,_ thought Roy before he was sucked into the sea of bodies and Claire's face was invisible.

Claire was leaning against a barstool thinking about what to do._ How am I going to find an empty table? Paige told me not to bring my cane, and It sounds pretty crowded in here._ To be honest, she really couldn't hear anything above the blaring music, besides the people two seats down who were encouraging someone to take shots. She was contemplating just leaning against this barstool all night, until she hear d a voice come from her right.

"You gonna order something or just stand there?" A gravelly voice said, clearly annoyed. She turned her head toward him, but continued staring straight ahead of her, not making eye contact.

"No, just looking for an empty table. I can't seem to find one." She replied, hoping this sounded ok and that there weren't a lot of empty tables. The bartender looked at her as if she was some sort of idiot. His eyes went to her fitted black t-shirt and dark colored skinny jeans, all of which gave her slightly pear shaped body a wonderful silhouette. He decided to ignore her stupidity, but still internally told himself to keep an eye on her. He didn't want any trouble to happen tonight.

"There's tables all along the walls, completely empty." He said, nodding his head to a table across the room to show her, his face still showing his confusion.

"Where?" She asked as if he hadn't pointed it out. She didn't even move her head to see where he pointed, just kept facing him.

"Jesus, do you want a map? Turn around and start walkin'," He half yelled. He did not have time to be giving directions to idiots. He looked at her in disbelief as she walked away. He had heard of dumb blondes, but she was brunette. Perhaps all humans were idiots by nature.

Claire began slowly walking in the direction the bartender had set her. She swung her arms unnecessarily far so she wouldn't hit anything on her way to the table. Fortunately for her, it was a rather clear path, and for that she was grateful, but unfortunately it was also a short walk, and her hand hit a metal chair hard, and she felt the vibration start rolling up her arm. She grabbed her hand by instinct, as if it would dull the pain.

Feeling like an idiot, she felt for the chair again, more slowly than before, and sat in it. Claire sighed with relief. She usually had someone help her with everything, and was rarely on her own, so being independent made her feel good, more confident.

It had taken a very long time to convince her mother that she was just going to a friend's house that night, and that she was going to be perfectly fine without her help. Her mother was constantly afraid for her daughter ever since the accident when Claire was eight. She would never forgive herself for the pain she had let her daughter go through that day, and promised herself that she would protect her daughter from something bad ever happening to her again. Thinking about this made Claire feel slightly guilty for lying to her mother, but she quickly dismissed it. This was _her_ night.

Claire ran her hand through her hair, which had been flat-ironed pin straight by Paige. Paige had also done her makeup, something Claire had never bothered to do before. She didn't really care what she looked like; seeing her was everyone else's problem. She had caved to peer pressure though when Paige had asked her to come to Fangtasia with her. She had been completely free that night and was in fact completely free for the rest of the summer. Paige was mildly popular, and perhaps if Paige ended up liking her enough, she would be invited to a party. Claire smiled thinking about this. Although her chances of getting into one of those coveted parties had probably dropped like the stock market since her outburst at Paige. She didn't like it when people thought less of her, or pitied her. Damn teenage hormones.

Just then, Claire sensed someone slide into the chair to her right. She heard a dull click as a half-full bottle was set on the table. She turned her head to the bottle, her absent minded smile now lost from her face, and was replaced by a blank one. It was probably just Roy come to apologize for Paige's behavior. She put a half smile on her face as she prepared a sappy speech to make him feel guilty.

"Well hey there baby," cooed a slurred voice with a thick southern accent. "I saw you eyein' me from across the room. And then when you smiled at me, well," he paused talking to take a small breath, "I took it as an invitation." He purred. He put his arms on the table and leaned toward her. Claire could smell the alcohol on his breath as he said, "How 'bout it?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello! I'm not Charlaine Harris or Alan Ball, so I don't own any of the Tru Blood characters, they do. I would like to thank my awesome Beta's, **_**HoleySox **_**and **_**That-Girl-Han**_**. I think I'm going to update once a week, about every monday. Please review telling me what you think! **

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Ch2

Claire leaned herself away from the man, pushing herself into the metal lattice of the chair. With each breath she took, the pungent odor of stale alcohol increased, practically choking her. She could only assume the man was leaning across the small metal table, trying to get closer to her. His proximity frightened her. The fact that this wasn't the man's first drink only helped to increase her fear. She took a trembling breath, and then put a fake, strained smile on her face. She had no idea if this man was strong , and even if he wasn't, she knew that alcohol made people do crazy things.

"Listen, I'm sorry, but I wasn't looking at you," she said as calmly as she could, but she felt her nerves come out through her words. She hoped her smile would convince him of what she had said. She hoped wrongly.

"It doesn't take a genius to know you were starin' right at me," he countered, feeling himself gain control of the situation.

_Oh yeah, she wants me_, he thought, with a sly grin on his face. But if she wanted to play coy, it was fine with him. His grin deepened, anticipating the challenge that he so enjoyed.

"Oh," she said, losing her cool.

She couldn't help feeling a little bit flattered, nobody had ever hit on her before, and she didn't know how to react, or even better, reject his advances.

_Was I really staring at him?_ She wondered, deciding it would just be easiest to tell him why she had been 'staring'. She took a deep breath.

_Here goes…_

"I wasn't staring at you, because I couldn't even see you," she said quietly, defeated, "I can't see you right now. I'm blind."

If Claire could see his face now, she imagined it would be one of surprise. She waited for him to say something, to pity her. They always did and it usually made her angry, but tonight it just made her depressed. The man began spluttering; looking for something to say, but Claire wasn't paying attention.

She felt a small ache begin in the back of her head, which quickly began branching out to the front of her head as if the pain were a weed. She loudly let out a ragged breath of air through her nose as she braced herself. The dull throbbing engulfed her like a flame, intensifying under her touch when she placed her hands on the sides of her head. She faced down towards her lap as it reached her eyes, squeezing them shut. Without warning her eyes snapped open, as the pain became an image.

_She got her first look of Fangtasia from an angle on the ceiling. There was a mob of people, mostly dressed in leather, running in chaos towards a door leading outside, but shoving them back inside were police officers, yelling for everybody to get back. In the front of the room was a stage like area containing one ornate chair, with two other, more simple, chairs next to it. The chairs were set in a way that looked as if the previous occupants had left in a hurry. Knowing what was happening, Claire looked for a clock, and found a small one on a wall adjacent to the bar. The time was 12:15 AM. Claire began to scan the crowed for Paige and Roy, but before she had a chance, she felt her head pounding. The scene faded and the screams dulled until it was black again._

Claire gasped as the loud music of Fangtasia made her ears pop. She felt a light stinging pain on her shoulders from a pair of strong, heavy hands. From behind her she heard a voice, which she recognized as the drunk redneck who had been trying to hit on her.

"Are you alright?"

"Get off me." She commanded, swinging her arms behind her in an attempt to get him away. The man started to say something, but she cut him off.

"What time is it?"

"What?"

"I asked what time it was."

"It's five after, why?"

Claire cursed, banging her fists on the table, rattling the man's beer. She needed to leave the bar before the cops came, but with her vague layout of the room she wouldn't be able to make it out fast enough without causing a scene. She didn't even know where the exit was in relation to her. She took another deep breath.

"I need you to take me back to my car."

"Not 'til you tell me what jus' happened!" He countered, his eyes wide, thinking she might be crazy.

"I really need to go to my car." She tried again, laying the damsel-in-distress on thick. "Please."

The man stopped talking, and Claire knew she had him. She heard him grunt and the chair skid as he got out of it. He came over to her, his hands hovering above her shoulders, unsure of what to do.

"Give me your arm."

Claire sensed his arm move next to her. She lightly placed her left hand on his forearm and got out of the chair. Straightening her shirt with her spare hand, she began directing him.

"Now take me out of here."

She felt the man's arm move under her hand, so she followed. They had only taken a few steps when he stopped. His arm stiffened under her hand, and she felt him begin to sweat. She scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion.

"What's going on." She demanded in a whisper.

"I'll tell you what's going on," a woman's voice drawled. "Your little friends happened to get in some trouble, and let it slip that you were underage. We don'_t_ serve minors."

Pam was angry with herself for not noticing minors getting into the club, and even angrier about how little she could do about it. If these were adults she was dealing with, much worse things could have happened, but she didn't need children's blood on her hands, no matter how sweet it smelled…

"You're under age?" He whispered fiercely.

Claire was nervous; not because she could get into trouble, but because she knew that time was ticking away.

"Well we were just leaving." Claire said. "Can I take my friends with me?"

"They're still being questioned, but you may wait with them." Pam offered, a smirk on her face.

"Oh, but we really need to leave _now_."

"Why in such a rush? You did work so hard to get in." Pam said her voice honeyed.

She gazed deep into Claire's eyes, working to feel the slight connection that occurs when a human becomes glamoured. She waited for Claire's face to soften, to fall under her spell, but her face remained rigid, tense. She was amazed; she couldn't glamour Claire.

"We just, um… have a curfew, that's all." Claire lied.

She tried to sound sincere, but her face gave her away. Without warning, Pam gripped Claire's right shoulder tightly. Claire gasped as Pam's hand tore at her scar and her knees buckled in pain. Pam loosened her grip, surprised at herself for underestimating her own strength. She kept her nails against Claire's shirt though, to remind her who had control.

"You're coming with me." Pam said, shoving the girl backwards, while the man began backing away from the situation, feeling in over his head.

"Stop!" she gasped, her voice ragged. "I need to get out of here!"

Claire's scar was ripping, it burned and stung from the friction of Pam's hand. She knew that time was running out, and that she need to do something drastic to get away. She felt the words exit her mouth before she had a chance to think.

"The police are coming, I need to leave!" she shouted. Pam looked at her in disbelief.

She began to respond, but was cut off by a shiver running up her spine; Eric was calling her. She let go of the girl, deciding that she wasn't worth the trouble.

"Get out," she snarled, "and don't come back."

Pam immediately sped off to Eric, who was sitting, glorious, on a throne in the middle of the stage. To his right was a petite blonde girl wearing a cream-colored dress, spotted with red flowers. She remembered her immediately as the animated Sookie Stackhouse. On his left was the notorious Bill Compton, who had both his eyes on the blonde girl. She was talking urgently to Eric as Pam appeared behind him.

"Eric the cops are coming there's gonna be a raid."

"Tell me you're not an undercover cop." Eric ordered her.

"I'm not, but that man in the hat is!" Sookie said, desperate to have them leave.

Eric and Pam turned to look at the man. Then Eric spoke again to Sookie, "even if you're right we do nothing illegal here."

"There's a vampire named Taren in the ladies room with that man you kicked before. She's feeding on him."

"How do you know this?" Questioned Pam, surprised that now two people knew about the cops. She thought that perhaps she should take greater care when letting people inside Fangtasia. Sookie's eyes flickered to Bill, who discreetly shook his head. Just then, a man's voice yelled out.

"Police! Police!"

The yell was followed by a woman's scream, then everyone in the club broke out in a scramble, pushing and shoving chaotically to get out. The police charged through the doorway, and Eric stood up.

"Follow me."

Sookie and Bill stood up and followed him out the back door with Pam by his side. Bill swung Sookie unto his arms, bridal style, as Eric said, "I enjoyed meeting you Miss Stackhouse. You will come again."

Claire wasn't even a block away from Fangtasia when screams began to vibrate through the night. An involuntary shiver shook her upper body, as she imagined what it must be like inside the bar. She turned her thoughts away from the bar and back to the pressing reality in front of her.

She didn't know how she was going to get back home to Bon Temps yet, and was just concerned with putting as much distance as possible between her and that awful vampire bar. The man who she met in the club was still with her. He had caught on to what was happening and realized that she had never intended to go to her car in the parking lot. He mentally kicked himself for not catching her lie.

_She's blind, she doesn't own a car because she can't even drive. _He sighed aloud, and stopped to face her.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said in the bar. I had no idea…" he paused, deciding not to finish his sentence. He looked at the girl, and saw the scared look in her eyes. He watched her lips quiver as if she was cold, and her hands shake from fear.

"Do you need a ride home?"

Claire didn't know if she should accept or not. On one hand, she had to get home as soon as possible. Her mother was expecting her home, and Claire knew that she wouldn't go to bed until she was home. On the other hand, the little voice in the back of her head had been screaming "stranger danger" ever since the man had slide into the seat next to her at Fangtasia. The man seemed nice, but she knew that murderers, rapists, and thieves were always nice. They were wolves in sheep's clothing. She couldn't accept a ride with this man. She tried to form a sentence, but always stopped before more than three letters came out.

"Hey, it's alright," he said comfortingly. He reminded himself that she was just a kid, and one that was probably scared to death. After the vampire bar, her freaky mind-melt, and then a run in with the sexy yet terrifying Pam, she had had enough excitement for one night. He had carpooled with his friends anyway, and they were back at Fangtasia with the car. It wouldn't be safe to go back there for at least three hours, and he thought that she should probably get back home sooner than that. He reached out to put his hands on her shoulders in a comforting gesture, but stopped. He remembered her strange reaction when Pam had touched her in Fangtasia, and figured that it was not a good idea.

"Let me buy you a bus ticket back to…?"

"Bon Temps," she answered, "thank you."

"Hey, no problem." He said smiling. "The name's John by the way. John Hamby."

"Claire Winfield."

John smiled and reached in his back pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a ten and a couple of ones. Bon Temps wasn't too far, but he didn't want to leave her high and dry. He offered her his arm again and, sensing it close to her, Claire took it. He led her to the nearest bus stop a couple blocks away and waited with her for a bus to arrive. He had a lot of time now that the police were questioning his ride back home. Thinking of that got him wondering…

"How did you know that the police were coming?" John asked.

Claire jumped at a little, his voice was sharp and loud against the urban silence. She was not prepared for his question either, as she had been trying to calm herself down from the events of the night and had forgotten about the vision she had in the bar.

"Oh, well I,… I…Just knew." She said, not exactly lying, but not telling the truth either. She had never told anybody about her visions. The way she looked at it, she was in the hospital enough as it is.

She shrugged her shoulders, hoping to pass it off as unimportant. John just nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see him. A minute later, the bus came. Usually buses stopped running at eight, but shortly after vampires came out of the coffin two years ago, the bus companies started having buses run 24 hours a day to allow for the expected influx of new vampire customers.

John brought Claire to the bus and led her to one of the many empty seats. He put his hand on her head, and told her to 'be safe', then went to the front of the bus where the conductor was.

"She's headed to Bon Temps," he said, then lowered his voice, "she's blind, so if you could help her out I'd be much obliged." The conductor made a face of understanding and nodded his head. John looked towards Claire one last time before stepping off the bus.

_Funny,_ he thought,_ how in a few minutes two people could come together to help each other._

Hours later, back at Fangtasia, Pam was surveying the damage done from the police raid. It was really nothing major, just a few over turned chairs and tables, some spilled drinks on the floor. She walked around the mess, frowning. She knew Eric was going to tell her to clean it up. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Since they had left Fangtasia after the raid, all Eric had been thinking about was that Stackhouse girl. To be honest, she had been thinking about Sookie too, Sookie and that girl she confronted, Claire. It hadn't taken Claire's "friends" long to rat her out. She didn't even have to glamour them. It irked her that she had known about the raid. Pam originally thought that she was undercover, but the fact that the girl was in such a rush to get out said otherwise. The fear wasn't fake either, she had smelled it coming off her in waves. Pam turned her attention back to the mess that surrounded her.

"Ginger!"

She heard a scream of surprise come from the back room. A frazzled, skinny, blonde woman in a skimpy outfit ran out of a door behind the bar and looked at the mess. Pam walked towards her, her heels clicking as she stepped. "Get to work."


	3. Chapter 3

Ch 3

Claire got off the bus a block away from her house. The conductor, noticing that the bus was empty save for her, had offered to drop her off at her house instead of a bus stop. He figured he could break the rules, just this once, for someone in need. She thanked him for his kindness, but told him an address just slightly down the street from her house. If her mother was still up, she certainly wouldn't like seeing her daughter come home at one am on a bus from Shreveport, a long way away from where she had been told Claire was. The conductor had also offered to walk her to her door, but she politely declined.

Once Claire heard the bus drive away, she slowly began walking down the street. She kept her left hand outstretched, looking for mailboxes. Her hand hit one, and she felt for the large sticker numbers that would allow her to navigate. The box read number 2976, three houses down from hers. Swatting at a mosquito on her arm, she began walking again, still keeping her hand out to find the mail boxes.

Her feet dragged as her hand hit another mailbox, but this time the number was her own, number 2982. She turned and walked perpendicular to the sidewalk, her feet hitting grass as the blackness that she saw brightened slightly to a deep shade of gray. Claire immediately froze, knowing that the light had to be from her mother, meaning she couldn't use the front door and instead had to enter through the back kitchen door. Claire crouched down, so much that she could almost crawl, trying to hide herself. She inched forward until she sensed her house close by. She followed the outside walls of her house until she felt the ramshackle wooden stairs that lead up to the back door. She paused for a moment, making sure the coast was clear. There was no light coming from the window in the backdoor, so she took it to mean that nobody was in the kitchen.

Claire reached out and caught the railing on the steps, feeling the separating fibers under her palm. She crept her way up, easing herself onto each new step with her toes. She reached for the screen door, pulling it open just enough to squeeze by, knowing that opening it too much would make the rusting metal squeak. She stepped into the kitchen, buzzing from the sound of the refrigerator, and stood in a cloud of cool air. She turned and continued tip-toeing her way to the door a few paces to her right, the one with the winding stairs. Finding the handle, she turned it slowly, and then opened the door.

If she wasn't blind before, she certainly was now as an incredibly bright white light burned her eyes, forcing her snap them shut. By instinct she blinked several times to let her eyes adjust to the light, but her efforts were in vain since she already saw everything as if her eyes were closed.

They didn't say anything at first. Claire could feel her mother's presence in front of her, smell the chokingly sterile disinfectant that came from the hospital where she worked. She waited for her mother to start yelling at her, to say something, yet it was silent. She began wondering if perhaps her mother had just left the light on, that her mind was playing tricks, and that her mother was in fact _not_ standing in the hidden staircase. She opened her mouth, but a sharp voice cut her off.

"Do you have any idea what I've been through?" Snapped Ms. Winfield, clearly livid. She spat every word as if she was throwing knifes, sharp and quick, with emphasis on the first syllable. Claire's heart started thumping, and she felt a cold sweat begin on the back of her neck. She closed her mouth and swallowed, lowering her suddenly pale face away from her mother's view. Even though she couldn't see her mother, the daggers she was staring at Claire with were palpable.

"I have been up _all night_ waiting for you. I don't even want to know where you have been because it is obvious that you did _not_ go to Lauren's party. I don't even want to look at your face right now. Go upstairs. Go to bed. And for your own sake, _do not_ come down before I leave for work tomorrow." Ms. Winfield paused for a moment, letting this information sink in. Claire only looked up when she heard the dull beat of her mother's feet marching up the stairs, then down the wooden hall floors upstairs. Claire exhaled and let her shoulders droop. She ran her hand through her hair, which had gained some volume from the humidity outside. Sliding her foot along the floor until it reached the beginning of the bottom step, she began climbing the staircase, her hand on the wall to keep her in the spiral of the stairs. At the top of the stairs she felt for the light switch and, upon finding it, she flicked the plastic nub down. She sighed again as the now bright gray turned to black again.

In her room, Claire kicked her flats off into a corner by her door. She walked across the room to her lone window, feeling the blinds to make sure they were closed before she changed into her pajamas. She was too tired to wash her face or brush her teeth, so she just climbed into bed, letting herself completely relax.

Claire had been hoping that the night's events would leave her drained of energy and able to fall asleep immediately, but adrenaline was still coursing through her system, and left her unable to sleep. Thinking back to what her mother had said, about not wanting to see her face had left Claire feeling depressed. Claire still held the adolescent want to have distance from her parents, but that want did not extend to being alone. Somehow, when she was given this distance, the request from her mother to stay away, she did not want it. She wondered if this was how her mother felt whenever Claire had told her not to come somewhere with her.

Reaching over to her bedside table, she hit a large button on her alarm clock, and a soft electronic voice said "one-ten AM". Claire sighed at how late it was. She groped around the table, looking for her ancient walkman. She knew walkmans were very out of date, but her mother couldn't afford an Ipod for her, and the library had books on CD that you could check out. Claire found out early on that it took too long to read Braille books, having to read them letter by letter. It was much easier to listen to a soft woman's voice as she tells a story. It also had a calming effect on her, like a mother reading to her child. Claire wondered why more people didn't listen to books on CD's. She smiled as she listened to the peril of Alice in Wonderland.

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><p>Back at Fangtasia, Ginger was on her hands and knees scrubbing the floors clean of all the spilled alcohol and Trubloods. Pam was lounging in a chair nearby, inspecting her already perfectly manicured nails. She glanced down at Ginger with a sneer, making sure she was still cleaning. While looking down, her eyes wandered to her pink shoes, admiring them. She noticed that there was a small scuffmark along one of the platform from running earlier that day. She frowned as she looked at it, studying the severity of the imperfection. She rubbed the scuffed shoe against her leg, thinking it might be a smudge of dirt, but the mark stayed. Pam cursed, knowing that she would have to send them to a cobbler on the western side of Texas to have them repaired. She trusted very few people with her shoes, and these were one of her favorite pairs. She cursed again, louder than before, causing Ginger to scream in surprise.<p>

Eric was in his office, thinking. This Sookie girl was clearly special, and he planned to meet her again. He didn't know how she knew about the police raid, and this unknown made him concerned. She seemed to realize all of a sudden that it was going to happen, as if the thought just popped in her head. Perhaps Pam knew something…

"Pam," He called quietly, knowing she could hear him from the main club. He stopped pacing his office to face the door as Pam appeared there.

"Yes?" She said, her tone a mix of boredom and annoyance.

"What do you know about Sookie Stackhouse?"

"Not much. She's 25 and lives in Bon Temps." Pam said, eager to get back to her shoe dilemma. "Perhaps you should ask Bill about her. She is his, as you know."

"There is something unique about her. I intend to find out what it is." Eric said, his deep voice definite. He moved to sit in a chair behind his desk, looking away from Pam, a silent dismissal. She continued standing in his office though, contemplating whether to tell him about the minors in the club that night or just let it go. Eric glanced back to her, noticing that she was still there.

"What is it Pam?" Asked Eric nonchalant, noticing the vague look on her face. Pam sighed, knowing she had to tell him now.

"Three minors entered the club without me knowing tonight," she said. Eric looked up, eyebrows raised slightly, an unspoken question.

"I took care of it." She said smiling, while Eric frowned at her, his eyes becoming hard. "I didn't hurt them, just brought them to the back to question them. They told me about another friend they had. I went and found her," She said, smirking.

"…and?" asked Eric, seeming uninterested. He really didn't care about these children, he just wanted to make sure that Pam had not harmed them. He would already have to answer to the human police after searching his bar, and didn't want any more trouble. Pam huffed, angry that this conversation had carried on longer than expected. She wanted to have her shoes in the mail before dawn, but Eric was making her lose time.

"I found her as she was leaving. She was in a rush to get out, so I let her," her irritation turning into boredom again. Then she remembered that the girl had known about the raid. She didn't want to tell Eric, concerned that he would become interested. She began wishing that she had just left when given the chance. Eric noticed the change in her expression and became curious. Pam seemed concerned about something, and concern was an emotion that she rarely displayed. He turned to face her completely, and looked at her. He felt her indecision, and questioned it.

"There is something you are not telling me."

"She knew about the police raid." She replied, annoyed, folding her arms over her chest in hopes of ending the conversation. Eric didn't have the same hopes in mind. He leaned forward, interested.

"Her name?"

"Claire Winfield." Said Pam, irritated. "Is that all? I have a pair of pumps that need me."

Eric smirked at Pam's petty concern. Her waved her off and turned to his laptop, opening it. He was going to find out more about this Sookie Stackhouse, and then he would look into the Claire Winfield problem. He had a suspicion that she was in on the police raid, an undercover cop. But why would the police send a minor in to do an adult's work? He intended to find out.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch 4

Beep… Beep…Beep..BEEP..BEEP.. BEEP..

Claire opened her eyes and groaned as the alarm on her clock beeped, getting louder and faster the longer it went uninterrupted. Claire thought it sounded like a timer on a bomb, a persistent reminder of eminent doom. She flung her hand in a feeble attempt out to smack the alarm and turn it off. She ended up groping around on the clock, feeling her Walkman, tangled headphones, and a tube of chapstick. She eventually found the correct button and stopped the dreadful beeping sound. She smiled slightly as she imagined herself defusing a bomb.

"No really, it was nothing." She said, pushing the sheets off her and climbing out of bed. "The key to the city? Oh no Mr. Mayor, I really couldn't." She continued sarcastically while lifting her arms above her head, stretching.

_If only it were that easy,_ she thought, _just push a button and it all goes away._ Unfortunately, Claire's mother was not an alarm clock bomb, and couldn't be turned off. Her smile fell as she remembered the events of last night, particularly the confrontation with her mother.

She turned around, reaching for the sheets she had moved, and pulled them back up to her pillow, smoothing them out. She absentmindedly scratched her shoulder, and sauntered out of her room and down the hall towards the bathroom, seeking a much-needed shower.

At the Hospital, a still cross Anne Winfield was going over patient's charts. Three people in scrubs whizzed by her down the hallway towards the ER. She watched them pass by, a thumping pain beginning in the front of her head. She brought her hand to her nose, pinching the upper bridge in a pain relief technique she had learnt during couple's therapy back when she was still married. It was safe to say her job was stressful, requiring constant mental and physical alertness. Not to mention how draining it was for her to be in a hospital ten hours a day. Then with all of Claire's check-ups and then her own father's decline in health, she felt like she spent more time in this hospital then out of it. Anne turned her attention away from the charts and over to two nurses who had loudly begun gossiping in the corner.

"Can you believe that Jason Stackhouse was here last night?" Whispered the dark haired nurse in mint green scrubs.

"My god, what for?" Whispered the other nurse, a rather large woman dressed in baby pink scrubs making her look like a large ball of cotton candy.

"I heard he had a severe case of," the first nurse paused, looking around for anybody listening, and then turned back to the second nurse, "Priapism."

"He did not!" exclaimed the second nurse in disbelief, her hand flying to her chest in shock. Anne's eyes widened in shock at the news as well. She had never seen a case of priapism, but had read about it when she was in college. She wasn't a man, but even she could understand how a prolonged erection would be extremely painful.

"He did, he did, I swear it! Heard it straight from Dr. Robideax himself!"

"But how? Young man like Jason shouldn't be havin' this happen to him naturally."

"Oh no," said the first nurse, itching to say what was next, thriving in the attention that the story was giving her. "Doctor said he thought Jason took some kind of drug."

The second nurse's mouth dropped like a fish, while the first nurse nodded her head, making noises of confirmation.

"What did he take?" She asked, her hand still on her heart.

"He denied takin' anything, but if you ask me, I think it was," she paused to look around again, and then moved in closer to the second nurses ear, using her hand to hide her lips. She whispered something so softly that Ms. Winfield couldn't hear it, but from the reaction of the other nurse, it wasn't good. As the second nurse took a deep, shocked breath in, the first nurse nodded her head with exaggerated movement.

"It doesn't surprise me, that boy's been goin' downhill for a while now. Heard he killed Maudette Pickins you know. Rosie down at the station said so herself!"

Just then, Ms. Winfield's pager beeped, calling her into another room. She sighed loudly before taking one last look at the two gossiping nurses before walking down the hall.

_Seems like yesterday was an exciting night for everyone,_ she thought, remembering her own ticking time bomb of a child at home.

Claire was digging through a cabinet downstairs in the kitchen, looking for her favorite cereal. Her mother had bought a Braille label maker many years ago, and since then has habitually put labels on everything to make it easier for Claire to find things. Claire took a box out of the cabinet and ran her hand down one side, then the other, feeling for the small, raised bumps.

_1-4…_ _C, _she read, promptly tossing the box aside. Grumbling, she reached in for another box.

_1-2-5…H… Urgh! _She tossed the next box aside, frustrated.

_1-2-4…F…Jackpot._

She popped the top of the box of Froot Loops and inhaled the synthetic fruit smells. She quickly fixed herself a bowl and made her way out to the front porch.

The charcoal color she saw in the kitchen brightened to an ash gray when she stepped outside. Claire smiled at the early morning sun. Even though she couldn't see the sun, she could still feel it's warm rays on her arms, feet, and face, like being wrapped in a blanket straight out of the dryer. She sat in the cushioned wicker loveseat, crossing her legs underneath her, Indian style. She brought a spoonful of processed sugar to her mouth, and smiled at the satisfying crunch.

It was the beginning of summer, the summer before her senior year, and she was going to enjoy it. She would call Paige when she got inside, and apologize for snapping at her. Claire imagined that Paige would forgive her, and maybe invite her to a party that Saturday night. She would meet new people at the party, and she would dance with some cute boy who thought she was pretty. Claire closed her eyes, enjoying her fantasy.

* * *

><p>In the hospital, Ms. Winfield was changing a patient's bandage and making small talk with the woman in the bed whose arm she was wrapping.<p>

"Lovely weather we're having today,"

"Yes, yes, lovely indeed, clear skies all 'round. But you know me, I don't trust no clear skies, no I don't. Always clear skies before a storm, that's what I say." Said the woman, her southern drawl seemingly intensified when heard after Ms. Winfield's clear mid-western accent.

"Not always," said Ms. Winfield, half-interested.

"Well, I jus' hope that if it does rain that if finishes up 'fore tonight. Got me places to go." Ms. Winfield chuckled to herself, and turned from the IV to look at the woman.

"You nearly cut your arm in half Mrs. Honeycutt, you won't be able to go anywhere for at least another day."

"Why, I can't stay here, they got a big meetin' up at the Bon Temps Church. The Descendants of the Glorious Dead are meetin' tonight." Said the woman as if they were giving away free drinks at Merlotte's.

"They meet every month Mrs. Honeycutt, you'll just have to miss this one."

"Haven't you heard Anne? Adele Stackhouse got herself a vampire to speak!" Ms. Winfield paused, a look of concern and interest clear across her face. "That's righ'. Real live vampire goin' to make a speech down at the church. Heard he had a high rank in the civil war, fought for the south he did."

"Is that so," said Ms. Winfield, very curious now. She had never met a vampire before, but had heard a lot about them from other people and the media. Maybe she should go see this man. "What's this man's name?" she asked. Mrs. Honeycutt screwed up her face, thinking.

"Well, I don't quite recall his first name, but his last name started with a 'C'." She began mumbling last names that started with a "C" as Ms. Winfield went to get her chart that rested at the foot of the bed. She jotted down some things on the chart, and looked up when Mrs. Honeycutt started speaking to her again.

"Compton, that's what it was, Compton." She said, glancing upwards at the clock set in the middle of the wall she was facing. "Listen Anne, I's gotta get out of here by seven to pick up Ruby so we can be at the church on time. You think I'll get out by then?" Ms. Winfield frowned, looking at her chart.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Honeycutt, but the doctor said you need to stay until tomorrow." Looking at her upset face, Ms. Winfield got an idea. "You know, if you want, I can take Ruby to the church for you." Mrs. Honeycutt looked up at Ms. Winfield with a big smile, and thanked her. Ms. Winfield smiled back, and walked out of the room. She continued smiling to herself, knowing that she now had an excuse to go see her first vampire.

* * *

><p>Up in her room, Claire had her hand on the phone, calling Paige for the fifth time. Paige hadn't been answering, and Claire became scared that something had happened to her with the cops. She wondered how many times she could call her before it was considered desperate. She hung up before the voice mail recording stopped , figuring five was a good amount. Scrolling down on the phone's internal address book, she listened to the phone say the names of people, stopping when she got to Roy's name. She waited while the phone rang, twisting her hair. She knew it was pitiful, that being an 18-year-old girl she had never called a boy on the phone before. In fact she rarely used the phone other than to call her mother at work.<p>

_What would he sound like over the phone?_ She wish was granted when she heard a voice crackle over the phone.

"Hello?"

"Roy?"

"This is he." Claire froze, biting her bottom lip. She suddenly forgot what she was calling him for.

"Hello?" Asked Roy.

"Oh hi, sorry. It's Claire." She said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. Roy didn't seem to notice.

"Oh hey Claire, how are you?" _He's asking me how I am! He's so sweet, _she thought, dismissing the fact that asking a person how they are is a standard greeting in most places.

"I'm fine." She said, smiling like an idiot on the other end.

"So… what did you call me for?" asked Roy, feeling awkward.

"Oh, well I was trying to call Paige but-"

"Paige was grounded for getting home late last night. Got her phone taken away, but she'll have it back by tomorrow." Roy said, cutting her off.

"Oh. She's only grounded for a day?"

"Naw, she'll just find where her parents hid it, that's all."

"Oh," said Claire, soaking in what Roy said. Paige seemed to get away with everything. There was an awkward pause on the phone. Claire fidgeted in her room.

"Hey, Claire, are you doing anything tonight?" Claire stopped breathing. _Did he just say what I think he said?_ Claire was having trouble taking in a breath. An enormous smile was spreading across her face, so big it hurt. She was on the verge of squealing from excitement. _Screw Paige!_

"Umm… Claire? You still there?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, what did you say?" Claire knew perfectly well what he had said, she just wanted to hear him say it again.

"I wanted to know if you were busy tonight." Claire covered the mouthpiece of the phone with her hand and squealed loudly. She then took a deep breath before removing her hand

"Why yes, I do believe that I _am _free tonight. Why?" Claire was pretty certain she knew why, but she just wanted to hear him say it. She but her bottom lip, smiling.

"Well, we're getting a group together to go to Merlotte's later today, and I thought that maybe you'd want to come." Claire was having difficulty breathing, but she carried on as if this happened all the time. At least she tried to.

"Yeah, that sounds cool. I'm going need a ride though, my mom is working."

"Oh, well Tammy can give you a ride."

"Great. What time?"

"Around eight good?"

"Yeah. Hey can you give me Tammy's number so I can tell her my address and stuff?"

"Yeah sure," Claire found a piece of paper and began writing Tammy's number down using a crayon from the box she kept on her desk. Then they said their good-byes and hung up. Once Claire heard the tone on the other end, she threw the phone down and screamed with joy. She did a little, wiggling happy dance in her chair before screaming again.

Still smiling, she ran her fingers over the raised wax and punched in the numbers. _This really is my summer,_ thought Claire as she listened to the dial tone.

* * *

><p>In the staff room at the hospital, Ms. Winfield was gathering her purse, ready to leave. She had asked to get off a half hour early, and because it was rather slow that day, her supervisor allowed it. Sliding her jacket on, she thought about seeing the vampire tonight. She had seen the vampire woman on T.V., Nan Flanagan, and she looked all right. She was not exactly nice, but reminded Ms. Winfield of a politician; very factual, didn't smile very often. Then again, most of the time she was on T.V. she was arguing with people. She couldn't imagine being happy after having to arguing with people all the time.<p>

Ms. Winfield exited the hospital from the back doors and stepped into the employee parking lot. It was almost dusk, and the cloudless sky made for a beautiful pink sunset. Unfortunately, the scenery was dulled by the overwhelming stench of leaking car fluids and trash littering the parking lot. She unlocked her car and sat inside; wiggling to make herself comfortable in the old fabric seats, then started the engine, which grumbled before turning on.

Pulling out of the lot, Ms. Winfield thought more about vampires. She knew that there were some who were dangerous, who killed people because it was fun, not because they needed to. But she remembered what the vampire on T.V. said, that some people are dangerous too. Ms. Winfield considered this, but she still thought vampires were more dangerous. Perhaps it was because they were made with all the weapons they could need; fangs, super speed, strength, and probably more that we didn't know yet.

She wondered absentmindedly what it would be like to _be_ a vampire. Would running super fast feel any different that running normally? She wasn't athletic, and running made her out of breath very quickly. Do vampires ever feel out of breath?

_They must not,_ she thought as she turned down a street, _they don't breath._

* * *

><p>Claire was going through her closet, trying her best to match up clothes. A few years ago, Ms. Winfield had the brilliant idea to color coordinate Claire's clothes. She had put them in traditional Roy G. Biv order, starting with the reds on the left side, slowly building into the purples on the right. Her system was still in use four years later, but to spare herself from the embarrassment of mixing plaid's with polka dots, which she had done before, Claire always gave her mother final judgment on her outfits.<p>

Reaching into her closet, Claire pulled out a pair of pants in a silky fabric. She recognized them as sweat pants, and promptly put them back. She was trying to base her outfit off what Paige had picked last night. _Jeans, jeans, jeans,_ she thought, feeling through the pairs of pants hanging up. She found a pair with the rough feel of jean fabric. She ran her hand down the front, and felt some small rips and holes.

She paused, hearing the front door open, then close. She listened as metal keys hit their counter top, and as her mother kicked her heavy sneakers into the downstairs coat closet. She wondered if it was safe to go and see her, to say sorry.

_I can't avoid her forever_, thought Claire. She walked down the hall to the winding stairs in the kitchen. She slowly opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, and peeked outside, letting her mom see her, yet giving Claire an easy escape if her mother went Animal Planet on her.

"It's alright, you can come out," Said Ms. Winfield, sounding sad. Claire cautiously crept out the door, and went to stand on the other side of the island counter. Ms. Winfield took a deep breath, and looked at her daughter.

"I'm still angry at you for breaking curfew, but I shouldn't have snapped at you." She said, trying to keep a level voice. Her maternal instincts were telling her to yell, to ground Claire to her room for a week. Claire rarely got into trouble and Ms. Winfield felt that Claire had suffered for it. Normal teenagers got into trouble, went to parties, hung out with friends, but Claire rarely did any of that. Ms. Winfield hated to think it was because of Claire's blindness or scars, or even of her being a single mother. People in this town frowned upon divorce, and Ms. Winfield didn't want Claire to feel the repercussions of her actions.

"You are 18, an adult, and you can make decisions for yourself. But while you are under my roof, and still in high school, you will follow my rules. You _will not_ be out later that 11 pm every night. 10 pm on school nights," said Ms. Winfield. "Now I'm going to the Descendants of the Glorious Dead meeting tonight at the church, so I'll be leaving soon. It's a favor for a patient," explained Ms. Winfield, noticing the confusion on Claire's face.

"There is pizza in the fridge, I labeled it. I'll be back late, so don't wait up for me. Are you doing anything tonight?"

Claire was taken aback. _Does she now about my date with Roy? She couldn't._

"No," said Claire, lying.

"Good," Said her mother sharply. "I don't have to tell you you can't." Claire looked confused.

"You still broke curfew Claire. _By_ _three hours._ Someone's going to pay for it." Said Ms. Winfield sharply before turning to walk upstairs and get changed, her cool and confident steps showing her pride at how she handled the situation

Downstairs, Claire had begun grinning slyly. Her mother was leaving soon and wasn't coming back until late. It was perfect, just perfect_._ She had enough time to sneak out, canoodle with Roy, and come back before her mother did. She went upstairs as fast as she could, and checked the time on her clock. The electronic voice recited that it was 6:34 pm. Claire smiled to herself before falling backwards to her twin bed. She had had a taste of freedom, of excitement, and she wanted more.

She didn't care what her mother said

she was going out tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

Ch 5

"Oh my god Claire! This top is super cute!" Said Tammy, holding up a patterned, racer back tank top for Claire to hold. She reached out, took it from her, and felt the fabric, noticing the exposed shoulders.

"Oh, I can't wear this," said Claire.

"Claire," Tammy said taking the top back from Claire, "You have _got_ to learn to show a little skin once in a while!"

"I really can't wear this, my mother would kill me. She's really conservative," Claire lied.

Her mother actually _encouraged_ Claire to show more skin, but Claire refused. She didn't want anyone to see the raised scars that covered most of her body, including her entire back and around her upper legs.

"Oh," said Tammy, disappointed.

She had been thrilled when Claire asked her to help her get ready. She had done her own hair, a sleek side braid, leaving Tammy to pick out her clothes and, hopefully, do her makeup. Tammy thought of Claire as a sort of dress-up doll, one she could mold and change to her liking.

"What about these?" asked Tammy, holding up a pair of dark wash jean Capri's that were rolled at the bottom.

Claire reached out and felt them, nodding at the length. Tammy smiled at her success and reached into the closet again, pulling out a heathered, zip-up hoodie. Her face brightened as an idea formed in her head before diving back into the closet.

Claire heard the dull 'clang' of plastic hangers hitting each other, a sign that Tammy was digging through her closet. She didn't know Tammy personally, but had heard of her before. She was dating the quarterback of the football team, senior Kitch Maynard, which basically made her all that and a bag of chips. Claire wondered what she looked like. She guessed that she must be very pretty to be dating someone as popular as Kitch.

"I just found the _perfect_ outfit!" Declared Tammy, back from the depths of Clair's closet.

She held up a slightly wrinkled white camisole, one that had been hidden in the far corners of Claire's closet. Handing the camisole to Claire, Tammy explained her idea.

"You can wear it under the jacket so you'll be covered, Miss. Conservative," Tammy teased. Claire took the camisole in her hands, smiling. Tammy returned the smile and left the room leaving Claire to change.

* * *

><p>Ms. Winfield took a seat in one of black fake leather chairs towards the back of the Reynard Parish church. She wasn't shocked at all to find the church packed full like canned tuna; everyone and their mother wanted to see a vampire, including herself. Hoyt Fortenberry, a large man with the disposition of a teddy bear, came to the end of the row and started handing out pamphlets to people.<p>

"Thank you," said Ms. Winfield politely as Hoyt handed her one. Hoyt smiled, then looked away to the alter at the front of the room where Maxine Fortenberry was struggling with a large silver cross.

"Ah, ah, ah, Hey! Mama, what are you doin'?" said Hoyt running up to her, looking irritated.

"Help mama get this thing down! Our guest of honor is a _vampire_. Adele plum forgot that little fact when she booked the _church_ for tonight. What do you thinks' gonna happen when he comes up and sees a giant cross?"

"I don't know!"

"Well I don't either. But if he sizzles up like fat-back bacon in front of everybody there's not gonna be much of a meetin' is there? Now come on make yourself useful!"

Hoyt exhaled and climbed up to the stage to help her with the cross. Back in her seat, Ms. Winfield scoffed. She knew that vampires could enter churches and that they were just fine near crosses, she heard the vampire lady on T.V. talk all about it. Over to her left, Adele Stackhouse's sweet, grandmotherly voice rang out.

"Oh well hi there munchkins! Oh I reckon you're the youngest history buffs we've had at the DGD," Adele said while handing pamphlets to two young children, one a blond haired boy, the other a girl with vibrant, wavy red hair. Behind them stood Arlene, a long time waitress at Merlotte's, and her boyfriend, Rene.

"Oh yeah dey wouldn't stay home for nuttin'. Minute they heard 'vampire' they had to come." Replied Rene, to a slightly shocked looking Adele. She was quickly distracted though by the appearance of the prehistoric Mayor Norris.

"Well hello there Mayor Norris."

"Evening Adele," replied the mayor, taking a quick glance around the church at all the people. "Quite a turn-out. Good thing Myra made extra Ambrosia."

"Ooh, Andy Bellefleur will like that, he's with the Dearborne's, though, Lord knows why Bud insisted on wearing his uniform."

Ms. Winfield shifted her gaze to where Adele was looking, at the Dearbornes. Sheriff Bud Dearborne, an older man in his sixties, was in fact wearing his uniform. Next to him sat the irritated looking Andy Bellefleur wearing his usual blue button down shirt, probably with a notepad in the front pocket, but Ms. Winfield couldn't tell from behind them. While still looking at Sheriff Dearborne, she heard Mayor Norris ask about their "Vampire friend".

"In the kitchen waitin'," replied Adele, "I left him with a bottle of that Tru Blood, they like."

"Adele," started Mayor Norris, "Do you think we've taken enough precautions?"

"Against what?"

"Well to make sure… Everybody's safe. Ordinarily I wouldn't pay no mind but, there's young folks here."

"Sterling, we don't have anything to be frightened of, Mr. Compton is a perfect gentleman," she said, passing him a pamphlet. "Frankly I am more worried about what we might do to him."

* * *

><p>Claire, Tammy, and another arrived at Merlotte's at around 8:15. Claire was surprised to find that it was actually pretty quiet there, almost empty. As Tammy brought her to a booth, Claire asked her why.<p>

"Oh, there's this DGD meeting at the church tonight. I guess it's gotten more popular," said Tammy, not really caring.

She was looking around for Kitch, hoping she hadn't gotten there before him. She spotted him playing pool across the room. She smiled at him and got out of the booth to greet him. Claire felt awkward being alone with Tammy's friend, a girl she didn't know.

"Where did Tammy go?"

"Oh she went over to say hi to Kitch, her boyfriend." She replied, tense.

She made eye contact with Claire for the first time that night, and was shocked by the vibrant blue of her eyes. She had known people with eyes that were just as blue, but Claire's just seemed so much more vibrant, as if they emitted some kind of light. Perhaps it was just that they stood out against her chocolate brown hair.

"Who else is here?"

"Umm," She said, twisting backward to look in the poolroom, "There's Kitch and Tammy, obviously, Roy…"

Claire stopped listening after she heard the name Roy. Her heart started fluttering, knowing that he was nearby. She straightened her shoulder and sat up straighter in the booth, trying to make herself more noticeable.

"… but more will be coming later. Some had to tag along with their parents to the Descendants of the Glorious Dead meeting," finished the girl with a groan. She obviously thought that the meeting was the most boring and degrading thing a teenager could attend. Claire didn't mention that that was where her mother currently was.

* * *

><p>The church began to settle down, the final stragglers making their way to the sparse amount of empty seats. Ms. Winfield absentmindedly noticed a scruffy looking Jason Stackhouse walk down the center aisle, his eyes locked on a black girl who she recognized as the barmaid at Merlotte's, Tara Thornton. She took her eyes off him as Adele came to the front of the room and began speaking in her gentle voice.<p>

"Welcome," she began, beaming at her audience. "It certainly is a pleasure to see so many new faces here this month. But, uh, Mayor Norris assures me that there will be enough ambrosia, and tipsy cake, for everyone."

Adele paused, looking a bit flustered. She glanced down at a note card in her hand before straightening her back and introducing the speaker.

"Our guest tonight is a gentleman, who, despite what you might have heard, is one of us. His family was among the first to settle in Bon Temps, and he bravely fought for Louisiana, in the war for southern independence."

Her voice had taken a hard edge to it, trying to convince the audience for the last time that this was a history meeting, _not _a vampire zoo.

"Let us welcome one of the original sons of Bon Temps back to the town the he helped build. I give you, 1st lieutenant William Thomas Compton." With that, Adele turned slightly to an opening door next to the platform.

Out of the door stepped a very pale dark haired man in a grey suit. He had a polite smile on his face as he stepped up to the podium, thanking Mrs. Stackhouse for introducing him. His voice was deep and kind, a true southern accent floating out of his mouth like rich sweet cream. Ms. Winfield heart softened; she had a soft spot for a southern gentleman.

"If you'll pardon me for a moment," he said, turning around to the covered-up cross. Ms. Fortenberry's last attempt at concealing the silver cross was to lay the American flag over it, and it stuck out otherwise very put together room. He grasped the edges of the flag with both hands, pulling upwards so the flag wouldn't catch on the edges of the cross. A series of gasps traveled around the room, one even escaping Ms. Winfield's mouth.

She watched as he handled the flag like it was the most delicate spider silk, using just his fingertips to drape it over his arm. He reached for the flagpole to his right that sat empty, and began clipping the flag to it, with the care a father would use to dress a newborn child.

"As a patriot of this great nation," he began, shifting his gaze from the newly risen flag to the audience, "I wouldn't dream of putting myself before old glory."

He set the flagpole back in the corner, and made his way up to the podium again. Ms. Winfield saw the faces of people around her soften from his display of patriotism. She too had been thoroughly buttered up, and couldn't wait to talk to him at the reception.

* * *

><p>Roy had been glancing at Claire in between shots for the better part of the hour. She was sitting in a booth across from Tammy and some girl he didn't know, the empty seat next to her practically calling his name. He continued studying Claire as the sounds of the heavy billiards balls clicked and banged behind him, followed by a deep, rumbling "ooh" sound.<p>

"Hey, your turn man," said a pissed-off looking Kitch from over Roy's shoulder. Pealing his eyes away from Claire, he looked at the pool table. As good as Kitch was at football, he royally sucked at pool. Kitch still had four of his solid balls on the table, while Roy only had the Eight ball to get in. But, he could thank Kitch for some of his success; he had pocketed two of Roy's stripped balls by accident during the game.

Scanning over the table, he saw that Kitch had knocked the Eight ball less than a foot away from a corner pocket. Taking his cue, Roy moved to aim, taunting Kitch as he did.

"Really Kitch, you could have at _least_ made this a challenge for me." He said as he took a few practice thrusts before shooting the cue ball straight at the eight ball, making it forcefully crash into the pocket, all in less than a second. A couple of the guys hanging around the table wooped, patting Kitch and Roy roughly on the back before starting up another game.

"Count me out on this one," said Roy, handing another guy his cue, "I gotta go hit the head."

Roy slowly made his way to Claire's table, eyeing her up. He couldn't help noticing how different she was from Paige. Paige had dyed dirty blonde hair, and brown eyes that were barely visible underneath her thick black eye makeup. Claire on the other hand, had the minimal amount of makeup on, looking very girl-next-door. Roy smiled as he approached the table, putting his hands in his pockets when he addressed Claire.

"Hey Roy,"

"I was just heading to the men's room when I looked over here and saw you."

The girl next to Tammy huffed. She had been watching him with suspicion ever since she caught him glancing over at her table.

"Oh! Do you mind taking me with you to the ladies room?"

"Of course," answered Roy, offering Claire his arm the same way he had last night. He felt himself shiver when Claire delicately placed her hand over his forearm, her fingers slightly colder than his skin.

* * *

><p>Ms. Winfield barely registered that she was getting in her car; she was too busy thinking of the night's events. Mr. Compton had told a touching story about a man he witnessed die during the civil war named Tolliver Humphries. It was very emotional and captivation story, especially, Ms. Winfield noticed, for Terry Bellefleur and Jason Stackhouse. She had even seen Terry go up to Mr. Compton and give him a hug at the after party.<p>

_To _hug _a vampire? He must have a death wish_, thought Ms. Winfield. She expected that Terry felt some sort of connection to Mr. Compton because they had both been in wars, but she couldn't believe that Terry, even with all his mental problems after the war, would be so bold as to hug a vampire. She shook her head thinking about it.

Then there was Jason Stackhouse. Jason has stared at Mr. Compton as if he was the good lord himself, which was ironic because Mr. Compton was the opposite.

Jason had also looked…_sweaty_.

Ms. Winfield's mouth dropped open as realization hit her; Jason had been high. The nurse's gossip at the hospital had been right Jason was on drugs. She clucked her tongue before closing her mouth. She didn't want to believe it, but how could she not when she saw it right in front of her. She sighed when she realized she would have to tell Adele about this. She contemplated turning around, heading back to the church, but she couldn't bring herself to it.

Adele had been having a wonderful time, with more people than ever at the DGD. She could tell from the smile Adele had been wearing the entire night, the smile that reached her eyes and gave them a youthful sparkle. That smile was what made Ms. Winfield so upset about having to tell her about Jason's drug abuse.

_Adele probably won't believe me, _thought Ms. Winfield as she pulled into her driveway. She wasn't surprised to see no lights on in the house; Claire never bothered turning them on. Locking her car, she entered the house through the front door, toeing off her dress shoes then kicking them into the foyer closet. She made her way to the kitchen, dropping her keys on the counter with a loud jangling crash. She glanced at the clock and sighed when she saw how late it was. Knowing her daughter, she was already asleep. She smiled wistfully, remembering the conversation they had earlier, and began to regret what she had said. Her thoughts were interrupted by a single knock on the door.

* * *

><p>Tammy, Claire, and two new girls were chatting over a large plate of greasy French fries when a loud, deep, masculine voice yelled out<p>

"… A.I.D.S.! Do anybody got a problem wit dat?"

The girls stopped their chatter as the restaurant went into a hush. Claire jerked her head up wards, trying to catch the rest of the argument.

"Yeah," said a higher pitched, but still male, voice. "I'm an American, and I got a say in who makes my food."

"Well baby it's too late for dat. Fact it's been breeding your cows, raising your chickens, even brewing your beer long before I walked my sexy ass up in this muthafucka. Everything on your goddamn table, got A.I.D.S."

There was a short pause, and in that pause, Claire whispered "What's going on?"

"Shhh!" hushed Tammy as the second man began to speak again.

"You still ain't making me eat no A.I.D.S. burger."

"Well all you gotta do is say hold the A.I.D.S. Here," there was a pause before the deep voice said, very quietly, "eat it."

Immediately following there was what sounded like a violent scuffle. Silverware clattered to the floor and chairs skidded, there were dull pounding sounds followed by manly grunting noises. A few women, including one of the girls at Claire's table, make noises of shock. Claire found herself tense up, not knowing what was going on, but have a strong feeling that there was a fight going on. There was a pause of silence, then the deep voice spoke again, angrier than before.

"Bitch you come in my house you gonna eat my food the way I FUCKING MAKE IT! Do you understand me?" There was a pause before the deep voice spoke again, sassy saying "Tip your waitress." She felt the vibrations in the floor as a large man walked away, to the back of the room. She heard another person begin chuckling.

Taking deep breath, Claire asked again, what had happened.

"Lafayette just started yelling-"

"Who?" asked Claire, unfamiliar with this odd name.

"The cook here. He came and just started yelling at these people over there. They were poking fun at him I guess for being gay."

"Why would they do they do that? That's just rude."

"No, _that's_ just typical Bon Temps," answered a different girl sarcastically.

"Well anyway it seriously pissed Lafayette off, so he took the burger bun, licked it, then shoved it in the guys face."

Claire made a little laugh, imagining this happening. The second girl cut in there, continuing the story for the first girl.

"And that guy wasn't going to have that, so he and his friends got up to-"

"Wait it was more than one guy?" Interrupted Claire again, captured in the story.

"Yeah, what loser goes out to eat _alone?_" Said Tammy.

"_Anyway_," continued the girl, irritated from being interrupted, "They started throwing punches, but Lafayette fought back and just creamed them."

Claire nodded her head in understanding. Tammy and the other girls quickly began talking again, but Claire didn't join in. She felt a familiar pain start in the back of her head…

"Tammy do you mind taking me outside for a second? I think I-" her voice faltered for a moment, as the pain began making its way to the front of her head, as if someone was attempting to cut a hole from the back of her head to the front. "I think I need to get some air after what just happened."

"Umm, ok…" said Tammy, confused.

Outside, Claire plopped down on one of the cut logs that marked a parking space. Tammy looked at her skeptically as Claire sat with her head between her knees.

"Are you alright…?"

"Yeah," replied Claire, her voice strained, trying to sound like she wasn't in pain, "It was just too crowded in there. You don't have to stay out here with me, I'll come back in when I'm better."

The white-hot, pulsing pain had reached Claire's eyes just as Tammy went inside Merlotte's, causing the door to slam behind her.

_Claire was inside her own house, her kitchen to be exact, viewing her front door from a vantage point she recognized as the island counter. The foyer lights were on, and her mother was walking towards the front door. She opened the door and stood in front of the frame, not exiting like Claire thought she would, but merely standing there. Claire shifted her view to see what was outside, but it was too dark; all she saw was a shadow of a large man. Looking at the shadow filled her with an irrational fear of it. Claire saw her mother's eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, and her begin mouth moving. Her face then softened to an almost expressionless façade before she stepped out of the doorway, allowing the man to enter. Just as he took a step inside, the vision swirled and faded to black._

Claire gasped as she entered her own body again, and the melodies of crickets filled her ears once more. She shivered, adjusting to the temperature post-vision. She crossed her arms over her knees, thinking of what she should do. Her first thought was to immediately go home and see if her mother was alright, but it even sounded stupid in her head. She didn't know who was in the house, but from the looks of it he was a big, taller than her door frame and his shoulders were almost as wide. She thought about calling the police, but what if it hadn't happened yet? She had had visions up to a week in advance, and if she called the police only to find out that nobody was at her house, the police would ask her why she had thought someone was inside. She wouldn't, no, _couldn't_, tell them about her visions; it would ruin everything.

She heard the door open and slam shut again. She listened to the gravel crunch beneath someone's feet, and a familiar deep voice speak softly.

"Hey, Claire?" It was Roy. He took a seat next to her on the parking spot.

"Hey," answered Claire.

"Tammy told me you were out here, feeling sick. Can't hang with the big dogs, huh?" teased Roy, putting his hand over her shoulder, leaning on her and rubbing her arm. Normally when people touched her scars she would jerk away from them in pain, but Roy was so gentle, the weight of his arm amazingly comforting. Claire breathed deeply, taking in his sweet cologne smell before resting her head on his shoulder.

"Guess not," she whispered, relishing his warm fingers on her arm.

"Well um," started Roy, swallowing, "Do you need a ride home?" He asked.

"You know, I think I do. Thank you," she whispered, grateful for his kindness. She smiled at him, thankful, and he returned the smile, mischief in his eyes.

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**A/N: I own nothing, it all belongs to the incredibly lucky Charlaine Harris and Alan Ball. Please let me know what you think about my story so far by reviewing! I 3 reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: *spoiler alert* Ok, just had to say that I loved last nights episode of True Blood! I'm so happy that Eric got his memory back! Don't get me wrong, I thought memory-loss Eric was adorable, but I was ready to have the old Eric back! I have to thank my awesome Beta Holeysox as well for helping me so much. She's totally awesome, and you should check out her work.**

Ch 6

Roy pulled into Claire's driveway, debating what his next move would be. He knew she liked him, that much was obvious. But, how much did she like him? How far would she let him go?

He had planned on breaking up with Paige for over a week now. Everything she did seemed to annoy him, from the way she talked to the shade of nail polish she wore. He knew that he needed to have another girl lined up for when he did dump Paige, to keep his streak. Roy Ames has continuously had a girlfriend since seventh grade, a reputation he enjoyed having.

Roy looked over at Claire's face, lit only by the dim blue light coming from the dashboard. The lights reflected in her eyes and made them glow even more than usual. Her mouth hung slightly open, suggesting things to Roy without even saying a word. Roy's eyes traveled lower…

"Thanks for taking me home," said Claire.

Roy snapped his head back up, startled by her words, and tried to focus on her face.

"Oh, it was nothing."

"Well, umm," started Claire, unbuckling her seat belt. "I appreciate it."

As Claire reached out to open the door, Roy grabbed her wrist, sliding his hand down until it reached hers. Claire paused, turning her head towards Roy hand. She swallowed, clenching her free hand in indecision. His hand was calloused from playing baseball, but he held her so gently she could barely feel the roughness. Her hand tingled deliciously with the sensation of being touched. Her body was telling her to stay, but a little voice in her head was saying _your mother is in danger! Get inside!_ Claire took a deep breath, preparing herself to say something she _really_ didn't want to.

"Goodbye Roy," She whispered sadly, wriggling her hand out of his grasp and opening the door before she could change her mind.

Roy was too shocked by her rejection to attempt to salvage the situation. He watched open mouthed as she got out of his car and shut the door in his face. His eyes followed her as she went around the front of his car and followed a stone path up to her front door. By the time she entered her front door he had fiercely shoved the key back into the ignition and whipped himself around to back out of the driveway. He gripped the back of his seat fiercely, ripping some of the seams.

_How _dare_ she do that? She doesn't know how lucky she is. Nobody rejects Roy Ames, Roy Ames rejects YOU,_ he thought, an ugly sneer across his face. His tires squealed as he pulled out of the driveway with a determined look on his face. He gunned the engine, leaving black tire marks in front of her driveway.

_This isn't over._

Strong winds of fear blew away the twitterpated fog that had clouded Claire's head when she entered the house. That fear spread to her body, locking her joints and tensing her muscles. She realized that the entryway was brighter than it was outside, meaning the light was on. Claire couldn't remember if she or Tammy had left it on. She cautiously walked around the front living room, thinking every step sounded like an explosion. She checked the downstairs bathroom, then went back out through the living room to the kitchen. Nobody was downstairs, so she took the hidden stairs to the upstairs hallway.

She checked all the rooms upstairs, almost screaming when she heard breathing in the master bedroom. She quickly realized that it was just her sleeping mother. Content that she was alone in the house with her mother, Claire made her way to her bedroom. Just before opening the door, she remembered that she hadn't checked her basement. She shrugged, opening the door. She had listened to enough scary movies to know that the basement was bad news. She stepped into her room, her flats making a swishing against the carpet, shutting the door behind her.

She was disturbed by the heavy silence in the room. She couldn't hear the usual crickets chirping their mating music, the whirr of her ceiling fan, or even the general buzzing a house makes. The air was unusually thick, like pre-storm humidity. Claire didn't step away from the door, concerned with the abnormal things she sensed in the room. She took a breath, crinkling her eyebrows at the new smell she encountered. It was slightly spicy, but musty, like a vintage fur coat. Claire breathed in again, trying to decipher the smell further, but was stopped mid-breath by a deep voice.

"Claire Winfield," it said slowly, powerfully. Claire froze in place, a shot of ice coursing through her veins. A shiver began in her chest, running throughout her body, then back.

"I've been waiting for you," said the voice.

Claire felt the vibrations in the floor as a large person stepped towards her. She took a half step backwards, her foot hitting the closed door.

_Trapped._

She remembered the hallway gossip at school about Maudette Pickins' murder, then the more recent murder of Dawn Green.

_Was this the killer?_

"You look surprised. Did you think that I was not going to find you?" Said the man menacingly.

Claire's terrified expression deepened as she realized what this man's presence meant. He had been watching her, _stalking _her. Somehow, the fact that she wasn't just randomly picked, but had been chosen and _researched_ made the situation so much more scary. How much did he know?

"I know what you have done Ms. Winfield. But I will allow you to tell me yourself," he explained still stepping closer to her ever so slowly, tormenting her. Claire's fear mixed with confusion.

_Oh god, what if he thinks I'm somebody else? What if this is some big mix-up? _She thought, panicking.

Claire tried to speak, but found her vocal chords constricted with fear. She let out a few strangled vowels. The man looked into the girls ice-blue eyes, concentrating. When he next spoke, his tone became rhythmic as he tried to put Claire under his spell.

"Are you undercover for the police?" He asked.

Claire was taken aback by his random statement, her fear lowered for the moment, enough for her to utter a single word.

"What?" She whispered. She felt herself slam against the door, and through her jacket she could feel his thick, icy, hands on her forearms, locking her to the door. His face was inches away from her, staring deeply into her eyes, angry for not being able to glamour her. He tried again, harder this time, to put her under his spell.

"Do you work for the police?"

"n-no," she breathed, stuttering as her fear came flooding back to her. He slammed her against the door again, gripping her forearms tighter.

"Do not lie to me!" He yelled, his voice exuding dominance over her.

He was extremely frustrated with her, his usual patience wearing thin. The man's violence awakened something new in Claire, something primal, instinctive. The firm grip the man had on her arms, and his disregard for personal space told Claire that this was life or death.

"I'm not lying," she whispered, surprised at herself for sounding like a chronic smoker.

She tilted her head upwards to what she assumed was the man's face judging by its uncomfortable closeness to her own head. She attempted a penetrating stare, trying to convince him of her words. The man's grip remained just as tight, but his voice softened.

"Then why don't you tell me how you knew about the police raid?"

Claire had been beyond confused as to why this man was in her house, why he chose her when Maudette and Dawn had both been adult women and fangbangers to boot, but now it was all clear. This wasn't the killer, it was somebody else.

Yesterday night in Fangtasia she had a vision about a police raid. Only John had known her reason for leaving, John and that vampire she had encountered in the bar. Now somebody else knew, and they wanted answers, answers that Claire couldn't give. She searched her brain for a lie, any lie, anything to keep her alive, just short of the truth. She couldn't think of anything, her brain too preoccupied with fear, so she resorted to her default answer.

"I just knew," she mumbled, looking down.

"I fear you need to elaborate Ms. Winfield," He hissed angrily, pressing her against the door again.

Claire felt her eyes water, a new type of fear coursing through her veins. He wanted to know her secret, her deepest, darkest secret, one that she hadn't shared with another soul. The mere thought of letting that weight off her shoulders was terrifying, unthinkable. She closed her eyes, feeling them betray her of her emotions. She felt a tear roll down her cheek.

"Tell me!" He shouted, grabbing her upper arms, shaking her. Claire began slowly shaking her head, another tear falling.

_I can't say it, can't tell him. No, never, never tell anyone, never…_ Even Claire's thoughts had become hysterical fragments as ten years worth of repressed thoughts and feelings resurfaced. She started sobbing as more tears fell from her eyes, streaking her mascara.

"I just knew, I just knew, I just knew," She said, over and over again, every repetition become less and less understandable and more muffled by her crying.

The man continued looking at her puzzled as to why she had been reduced to a sobbing mess. He quickly took advantage of her lowered mental state, and began coaxing information out of her.

"Tell me _how _you knew," he said his voice low and silky. "Nobody has to know, just you and I."

Even without the power of glamouring, Eric could be very, very persuasive. He stroked her shoulders with his thumbs, trying to calm her down enough to talk. In his gesture, the collar of her shirt pulled away from her neck, exposing part of her shoulder. His eyes spotted an angry, red, welt-like bump peeking out from underneath her shirt. He was intrigued, and made a mental note of it before turning back to Claire, who had stopped speaking and was just whimpering now.

"I can't," she whispered, her voice horse. She opened her bloodshot, but still beautiful eyes, tears threatening to spill over again. The man repeated the same words he said to the people he glamoured.

"Everything is going to be all right. You can tell me."

Claire paused, pressing her lips together in indecision. She had told herself long ago that she would never, ever, tell anyone about her visions. That secret had eaten away at her insides, invisible to everyone but her. Now she had the opportunity laid out in front of her to tell someone, to finally rid herself of the beast that lived within her. This stranger, a man who couldn't judge her based on her past, her family, her friends, nothing. It all came to Claire in a rush, how perfect it was.

She tried to form the words in her mouth, tried to push them out, but was not able to. Some subconscious being had lodged itself in her throat, a being she had fabricated ten years ago. She had placed it there during her first night in the hospital after losing her sight. On the night where she had been awoken by the first pain in the back of her head, the pain that came with a vision; her first vision, and her worst one. The vision where she watched as her grandmother had a seizure and died in the hospital. Now she was about to break the vow she had made that night, her vow of secrecy.

Claire took a deep breath, opening her mouth, waiting for words to come out. Her lips quivered, from the struggle to speak. Claire closed her mouth and tried again, eventually closing her eyes in an attempt to make herself speak. The man watched with interest at the girls struggle. Anything that provoked this much internal drama must be very important. A crackling noise began deep in Claire's throat as the lump that had forced her secret back came loose. The crackle became a hiss, and the hiss became a word that bubbled up to her tongue.

"Ps-s-sychic."

Her eyes welled up again with tears, but not the tears of joy she had expected. They were tears of disbelief. Her heart raced again, with a yet another type of fear, fear of change. The type of fear you develop when you're told that you're moving away from your childhood home to a place across the country. Only this fear was magnified times ten in Claire.

"Well I certainly wasn't expecting that."

Claire didn't say anything, she just stood there as the man released her from his death grip. Her mouth dropped and her hands started shaking again. The man backed away from her, taking in her shocked state. Without the man holding her up, supporting her, she fell to the ground, her back sliding painfully down the paneled door. Not wanting to move the girl who had become a heap in front of him, he made his way to the room's lone window, opening it. He looked back at her, another glistening drop rolling down her face.

"I will come back Ms. Winfield," he said, a promise. "You will tell nobody of our meeting tonight."

Claire looked up to where his voice came from, not able to say anything. She listened to him leave, then let the eerie silence he left in his wake fill her ears. Her body began to curl in on itself, her fingers folding into her wrists, her elbows bringing her arms in. She pulled her legs in, bending her back until she was in a fetal position. Her tears flowed more freely now as the man's words repeated in her head, mixed with her own words and self-hating thoughts. She lowered her head onto her knees and cried, eventually making her way to her bed where she cried herself to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the late post, I'm a busy girl. By the way, True Blood season finale yesterday! What did you think?**

Ch 7

Claire wasn't sure how long she had been laying in her bed, not knowing if she was awake or asleep. Her body felt numb, almost hollow. It was as if she were just a head, or less, a consciousness. She didn't have any thoughts, any words or images, she was just a hovering ball of disbelief.

Her sheets were tangled around her legs from her restless sleep. She laid there for what felt like a lifetime but in reality was just a few minutes. She blinked, the action reminding her of her body. A ball of emotion seemed to fall out of the air and slide back in her body through her pores. The ball filled her hollow shell, making her feel heavy, like wet sand held by a skin casing.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

An aggravated breath of air escaped from Claire's lips as another day officially began. She slowly lifted one of her impossibly heavy arms to slap at her alarm, and once the infernal noise stopped, she moved her other arm to her head, where she attempted to rearrange her face into an expression that looked more awake. She grimaced as she pulled her fingers away from her face; they were sticky and slippery in some places, then dry and crumbly in others. She rolled her eyes as she realized she must have makeup smeared all over her eyes and probably across her pillow from crying.

Claire pushed herself out of bed, feeling less like a bag of wet sand and more like a human shaped piece of solid lead. Her joints seemed to creak and groan in protest as she bent them, her ankles in particular as she shifted her weight onto them. She stood there for a minute, swaying as she got over her lightheadedness from being horizontal for too long. Turning around to face her bed Claire emptied her pillowcase, and then balled it up before tossing it on her bed.

_I'll take it down later, _she thought, _can't let mom see me like this._ She found the bathroom and began running the water. She only turned the knob halfway as opposed to her usually 360. She thought that perhaps a colder shower would make her feel less sluggish. After sliding her foot to the ice water, and promptly pulling it out again, she quickly abandoned that idea.

After her shower, Claire pulled a loose t-shirt over her head, stretching the collar to fit over her towel turban. She bent her back to pull on the pair of sweat pants she had found yesterday making her towel fall off her head. Grumbling, she grabbed the towel and wrapped her head again. When it was securely on her head she grabbed her pillowcase and made her way down the hallway to the main staircase that led into the entryway.

As she walked down the stairs, an unfamiliar symphony of sobbing mixed with violent trumpeting hit her ears. Wrinkling her eyebrows, she finished the flight of stairs, turning left to face where the noise was coming from.

"Oh Claire," her mother sniffled, lifting her puffy red face from a dripping tissue, "oh my baby."

The couch springs squeaked as Ms. Winfield got up to hug Claire. She wrapped one arm around Claire's neck, and the other around her lower back, two places she knew weren't as heavily scared and wouldn't cause her pain. The thought that just a hug from her own mother would cause her daughter pain brought a fresh set of tears from Ms. Winfield's eyes. Claire tried hugging her back, but found it incredibly awkward as one of her shoulders was under her mother's armpit despite Claire being taller than she is. She had to bend her knees and give her a squeeze around the waist, a position that would place Claire's face directly in Ms. Winfield's bosom. Awkward….

Ms. Winfield released Claire and brought her hands up to Claire's face, cupping her jaw. She brushed Claire's bangs from her eyes, sniffing.

"Oh my sweet sweet baby," she cooed, pulling a hand away from Claire's face to brush a tear from her cheek.

"Mom, what's wrong?"

"Oh sweetie, it's Adele," started Ms. Winfield, her voice squeaking when she said the name.

She sniffed again, rubbing Claire's cheek with her thumb, and then said, "She passed last night."

Claire paused, trying to remember who Adele was. The name was faintly familiar, but she couldn't place a face to the name. Claire guessed that they must have met after she lost her sight.

"Oh, oh my god," said Claire, realizing she had waited too long to say something. She heard her mother make her way back to the couch and blow her nose.

Claire felt like she should be as upset as her, but she wasn't. She began to feel uncomfortable, like she should do something. She made her way around the coffee table and sat down next to her. She placed an arm around the trembling figure, and began rubbing her back. The position reminded Claire of the nights long ago when she would wake up and forget that she was blind, and how her mother held her close, and rubbed small, soothing circles into her back. She began to move her thumbs like her mom did, and passed on the words that had been whispered to her on those awful nights.

"Shh," hushed Claire, "It's alright."

Claire's mother had stopped crying after a few minutes, saying that she needed to get started on baking "something" for the wake. She let her leave, but had a feeling that she just wanted to be distracted. She would probably cry again later, when Claire wasn't around. Claire picked up her pillowcase from the foot of the stairs where she had dropped it earlier and went down another set of stairs to the basement.

She shuffled across the cold cement floor, small bits of dust and other crumbly things collecting on her bare feet. She accidentally kicked the thick strap to a dusty violin case, evidence of a failed attempt by Ms. Winfield to get Claire involved in music. She turned to where she remembered the laundry machines were, dropping the crumpled pillowcase in a basket sitting atop of the dryer, then tossing the clothes that were in it around a bit so that her mother wouldn't see the make-up smeared pillowcase and ask questions.

Back in the kitchen, Ms. Winfield was looking through her cookbook with blurry eyes for a recipe that she had all the ingredients too. A tear dropped on the picture from a recipe for Banana bread. She whipped the tear off the page whilst scanning the counter for the two half-rotten bananas that were sitting there yesterday. Spotting them, she rubbed her eyes and turned back to the recipe to find the rest of the ingredients.

The soft padding sound of two feet drew her attention from the cookbook again. She looked up to see Claire walking over to the cabinet next to the sink, one that held various cooking instruments and some boxes of cereal. Ms. Winfield wiped her eyes again, grateful that Claire would never be able to see her like this. She remembered the first time she had seen her own mother in tears and it was scary, to see a woman whom she thought was so strong be so terribly fragile.

She watched Claire find the box of Froot Loops, her favorite cereal since she was a kid. Memories of her as a small child, a happy sighted toddler with no scars came to her, and brought a fresh set of tears to her eyes. She quickly sniffed and wiped them away, going back to distracting herself with reading the recipe.

* * *

><p>Claire was in her room, looking through her bedside table's drawer for her sunglasses. Ms. Winfield had left for the wake an hour ago, wearing waterproof makeup and carrying a fresh loaf of banana bread. She had given Claire the option to come with her, but she declined. She would feel guilty going to the wake of a person she barely knew, not to mention how awkward it would be surrounded by a group of people you barely know. She felt bad, leaving her mother alone when she was grieving. She tried to convince herself that her mom wouldn't want her daughter to comfort her, and that she would only be a burden to her.<p>

Claire promptly slid on her wayfarers upon finding them, adjusting their thick black rims so they comfortably sat on her nose. She usually was fine with staying home alone all day with nothing to do, but today she couldn't handle it. The lack of stimulation put her on edge, made her jumpy and irritated, so she decided to take a walk. She hit a large button on her clock and listened as it told her the time was 4:47. She began running her hands through her hair while walking out of her room, untangling the mess.

At the front door, she picked up her white cane from its reclined position in the coat closet, sliding her hand through the loop at the end. After slipping on a worn pair of leather flip-flops, she opened the front door and embraced the late afternoon sun. She followed the stone path from her front porch to the driveway, then made her way to the sidewalk. Swinging the cane in an arc slightly wider than she was, she began walking away from her house. She focused for a minute on getting a rhythm going, but once she had it, her mind began to wander to last night.

This wasn't this first time she had thought about the events of last night. During her shower, while she was eating breakfast, lunch, and the time in between she had thought about his questions, wondering why he asked them, why he was so interested. She thought that the vampire who tried to take her in the bar had sent him, to find out how she knew about the police raid. Claire guessed that the vampire probably owned or managed the bar due to her concern about minors, so maybe she sent an employee. The only other employee she knew was the bartender, but his voice was not the voice of the man she met last night.

_The nameless man, _she thought. For some reason it irritated her how little she knew about him. It felt unfair that she didn't even know his name, while he knew her biggest secret.

_What did he mean when he said he would come back? Did he mean tonight, tomorrow, next week, or was it just to keep me quiet? Will he come back to take me away, to kidnap me?_

Claire didn't really think that the man would try to kidnap her; he would have done so last night if he hadreally wanted to. But what she was concerned about was what he would do when he "came back". She tried to come up with a scenario, something he might do, but she drew a blank.

"_I will come back…"_

Claire repeated the memory in her mind, his definite tone making her heart flutter as she was reminded of his promise. Her cane suddenly hit air as the sidewalk ended and a street began. Claire stopped walking, surprised at herself for reaching the limits of her neighborhood. She had the sudden urge to just keep walking, to leave this place and the man with it. She sighed, dropping her shoulders that were stuck to her shirt with sweat. She lifted her hair from the back of her neck to let it breathe before turning around.

_He found me once, he'll do it again._

Claire entered the front door, sweating a bit more than she would have liked. Louisiana heat was brutal, and the mosquitoes that had come out on her way home were even worse. She scratched at a fresh bite on her ankle before propping her cane back up in the closet.

"Hey Claire,"

Claire jump out of her skin at the noise, making her sunglasses slip down her sweaty nose. The voice began chuckling, and in those chuckles, Claire found her mother.

"You scared me half to death!" exclaimed Claire, pulling her sunglasses the rest of the way off her nose, folding them up in her hands.

"I'm sorry sweetie," said Ms. Winfield, setting down the book she had been reading. "Where did you go?"

"I went on a walk. To clear my head," she added. "Why are you home so early?"

"We were, umm…" started Ms. Winfield. She didn't want to say what she was thinking, which was that everyone was kicked out of the Stackhouse estate by the loud Tara Thornton after the peculiar Sookie Stackhouse had an outburst. "We were asked to leave early."

"Oh,"

"Tomorrow is the…is the funeral," said Ms. Winfield, gently. "Are you o.k. to come with me?"

"Uhh, yeah."

"Pick out what you're wearing tomorrow when you go upstairs then, alright?"

Claire nodded eager to leave the awkward conversation. She turned to leave before Ms. Winfield could continue and, upon seeing her leave, Ms. Winfield returned to her reading. Claire continued walking into the kitchen, trading her sunglasses for an apple from the bowl sitting on the island counter. Taking a bite, she went up the hidden stairs, heading towards her bedroom. Opening the door she encountered a smell, one that was slightly musty, like an attic, but with a hint of spice to it.

_Did his smell linger from yesterday? Did it smell like this this morning? _

"Hello Ms. Winfield."

Claire dropped her apple.


	8. Chapter 8

Ch 8

Claire waited to hear the apple hit the floor, but there was no thump.

"Drop something?" he said, placing the apple back in Claire's open hand. She gasped as his cold fingers brushed her warm ones.

She couldn't decide if she was more, or less afraid of him than she was last night. All day the thoughts of the strange man and what he would do if he returned plagued her. The unknown had eaten at her, put her on edge, and increased her fear. It was a real fear, the fear you get when waiting in the hospital for a loved one. That the time you have with nothing but your thoughts, it's the worst. It can drive you insane.

He stood for a minute, just taking in the girl's presence. Psychics were very uncommon, bordering on rare. He had met veryfew is his thousand years, and all of them had been owned by other vampires.

Her unclaimed status had him perplexed, because if she was indeed a psychic as she claimed, then there was every chance that she would have been owned by now. So many doubts were gnawing at him, and he was guarding himself closely until he could ascertain the truth. He had genuinely believed her at first, the way the truth was screaming at him from her unfocussed eyes, the way she held herself, the way her voice broke as she was talking- it all argued in her favor, and yet he hadn't survived one thousand plus years on gut instinct alone. He needed more information.

The internet search on her had proved unhelpful. He found a few newspaper articles on her; the most intriguing one about a devastating house fire. It wasn't recent or local, in fact, the fire had happened about ten years ago in northern Maryland. The article omitted many details; it was mainly a rant on the poor fire brigade of that area, only mentioning the house fire as an example. The article said that three people were in the fire, one of which being Claire Winfield. Of the three, one was dead and another was in critical condition, though it did not specify which ones.

"Y-you," she stuttered.

"Ah, so you remembered me."

Claire wasn't sure how to act around this man. Last night their roles had been clear, but now he was being almost friendly. The change made her paranoid.

_Is this just an act? Is he trying to get my guard down?_

"H-how could I ever forget?" She asked, cursing herself for stuttering in her fear. "You broke into my house…"

"Your mother invited me in," he corrected

Claire furrowed her eyebrows. She was having a hard time believing that her mother, the woman who had never gone to bed later than 9:15, the woman who has worn the same brand of deodorant for the past six years, would _ever _let a random sketchy man in her house.

"I doubt that."

The man, still anonymous to Claire, didn't bother telling her that he had glamoured her mother into inviting him in. He watched Claire a moment longer before speaking again.

"I have some questions for you Ms. Winfield," he began, his voice becoming authoritative.

He began walking towards her from across the room, hands in his pockets. He stopped a good four feet away from her, but to Claire it was only inches. The room felt thick with his presence and his smell made it hard to breath. Her body tensed involuntarily making him aware of her discomfort. He smirked before continuing.

"You told me you were psychic," he said, letting the thought linger, it's question implied.

_That's not a question dumbass,_ she thought, while crossing her arms, a subconscious way of telling him to go away. It didn't work.

"So you knew about the police raid on Fangtasia?"

"Yes," said Claire cautiously. "I saw it."

"You saw it?"

"Yes."

He narrowed his eyes in disbelief. Seeing things was a sign of something more than just a psychic. Something…_other._

"Are you telling me that… that you're a _seer_?"

"Excuse me?"

He didn't bother to tell her, he could see that she was already figuring it out. Seers are supes that have the ability to physically see into the future. They are extremely rare, so rare in fact, that in all of his thousand years he had never seen one before, only heard of them. If she was telling the truth, if she really was a seer, then she was very, _very_ valuable.

"Is this… unusual?"

"No," he lied quickly, "it's actually quite common." He feared how she would act if she knew how incredibly unique and special she was. He didn't need her getting big headed.

"Why did you have a vision of the police raid?" he asked, changing the subject.

Claire paused. She herself wasn't sure _why_ she ever had any of her visions. She had never tried to decipher the how, when, and why of them, only tried to stop them from happening. She looked back to all the visions she could remember, trying to find a pattern. It reminded her of math class, trying to find number patterns. The task seemed easier now that she compared it to math, one of her better subjects. After a few moments of thought, Claire gave him her answer.

"I guess it's because it concerned me, because I was involved."

The man nodded followed by an "hmm" sound so that Claire knew he heard her. He began pacing the length between the foot of her twin bed and the room's single window, thinking. While still pacing, he asked Claire another question.

"What exactly did you see?"

Claire paused, bringing the vision back from the depths of her memory. Sometimes, a vision would become blurry after it came true. Like a dream, the details would fuzz until Claire forgot it entirely. Thankfully, this wasn't one of those times, and Claire could remember the vision almost perfectly.

"I was in Fangtasia," she started only to be interrupted by the nameless man.

"How did you know it was Fangtasia if you had never seen it before?"

"I could feel it, that I was in that room. Being a… seer I guess, makes you rather intuitive." She explained, pausing before continuing as the newfound awareness of being seer hit her again.

"People were rushing towards a door, the exit, but policemen were pushing them back. It was chaotic; I could tell people were yelling. I found a clock on the wall, remembered the time and then it… went black."

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, him thinking and her waiting for him to speak. Claire began to notice that their conversation had too many pauses. It made her feel awkward, and a bit frightened. She wondered if that was his intent, to make her uncomfortable.

The man was surprised by the clarity, and accuracy, of her vision. He had expected something much more vague, like a "feeling" of something bad happening, or flashes of images. However, to have something so concrete, to actually see an event before it happened was extraordinary. He looked at her again, thinking to himself; _I think I'll keep this one around._

"Have you had any other visions since then?"

Claire didn't say anything at first, another pause in their conversation. His questions were beginning to irritate her, but she didn't dare say anything for fear of his wrath. For some reason, her insides had twisted at his question, telling her not to answer. She didn't know why, but she felt that telling him would get her into more trouble than she was in now. She pushed aside the foreboding feeling, figuring that it would be worse to lie to him.

"Yes," she said quietly.

He turned his head to look at her, expecting her to elaborate. Her head was tilted downwards, so his eyes couldn't reach hers. Her arms were folded across her chest, her hands gripping her sides tightly as if she was hugging herself, or trying to keep herself from falling apart.

Claire listened to the silence, felt the impatience of waiting in the air_. _It aggravated her, that he had this control over her without saying anything. She chewed the inside of her lip, trying to get herself to tell him about her vision of him. He saw this and a small smirk of a smile formed.

"It was about you," she said grudgingly, with a touch of sass. His eyes narrowed in interest.

"Well, now I'm really curious." He said. Claire huffed.

"I saw you come to my front door and talk to my mother. You stopped right before you entered."

The intruder was a tad disappointed as he was hoping it was something more interesting. He continued pacing and saw Claire's shoulders relax. He pondered the information she had given him before asking another question.

"Were you born this way? A seer, I mean."

"No."

"Then when did it start?"

"After the… Ten years ago." She didn't want to tell him more than was necessary.

The man didn't need her to say it; he knew exactly what had happened to her ten years ago.

"The same time you lost your sight?"

"… Yes," said Claire reluctantly.

"Which you lost in the fire?" He continued, building on his question.

"How did you know about that?"

Claire's mind was going back to where it was last night, that this man had researched her. It was disturbing how much he knew about her, more than her own parents knew. She found her foot inching backwards, to get away from this man who was still pacing the other side of the room. The man's eyes darted towards the movement then travelled upwards, contemplating the girl's apprehension. He decided it would be best to not answer her question.

"So, you did lose your sight in the fire?"

"No," she said, warily. "It was a side effect of a medication I was given."

He made another "hmm" sound as he thought more about this. Claire's breathing quickened; she didn't like talking about the fire. She had tried for a very long time to suppress and forget any memories of that time. She preferred to act like it never happened. It helped that her mother never spoke of it and that the topic was practically taboo in her family.

"What medication was it?"

"I-I don't remember." Claire felt the floor stop moving as he stopped pacing. "I-it was ten years ago and I was only given it once. I can't remember!" She said panicking, afraid that she had aggravated him. She relaxed when she felt him begin pacing again. The rhythmic thumping of his feet was almost calming, like music. _Swish, thump, swish, thump._

"C-can I ask you a question?" She asked timidly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You may, but whether or not I answer is a different matter." The stranger replied in his baritone voice.

"Who are you?"

The man stopped pacing and Claire could practically hear the cogs whirring in his brain as he tried to think about how to answer her, or whether he was going to answer her at all.

"To tell you who I am would be to tell you my life story, and fortunately for you, I do not have the time for that."

"Well, what's your name then?"

"I do not recall you asking for another question, but seeing as how I didn't answer your first, I will tell you that my name is Eric Northman and I am the owner of the establishment you were in, illegally I might add," the reprimanding tone of his voice could not be missed and Claire practically shrunk into herself as Eric began pacing again.

"Sorry," she whispered as she thought_ Of course, just my luck_

"Claire!"

Claire jumped at the loud voice, and Eric froze.

"Claire, honey!" Yelled her mother as a thumping began, the sound coming from the hidden stairs at the end of the hall.

"Yes?" Claire yelled back over her shoulder, never turning her back to Eric.

The heavy thuds of her mother walking upstairs softened as she began down the hallway. Claire was torn between hiding Eric from her mother and screaming to her mom to help her get rid of him. She felt a slight breeze, then heard a bumping sound of someone opening her window, all in less than a second.

"Did you-"

WHACK!

Her door swung open, hitting her in the back of the head and on her butt, hard. She stumbled forward, hands clutching the back of her head. She almost fell, and if her mother hadn't made a grab for one of her arms, she would have.

"KNOCK!" She screamed, clutching the back of her head with her free hand.

"Sorry! Sorry, are you ok?"

Ms. Winfield steadied her daughter who was still teetering from the blow. She made to examine Claire's head, but Claire swatted at her hands, moving away from her.

"I'm fine," she said, irritated. The ringing in her ears was still there, but fading. What wasn't fading was her anger at the intrusion of her privacy. "Now what is it that's _so_ important?"

"I just came to see if you had something picked out for tomorrow."

"Honestly?" Said Claire, still irritated.

She pulled her hand from the back of her head, and then turned to face her mother.

"No, I don't." She said, trying to calm her voice down as she remembered just whom she was talking to, and what said person had gone through that day.

"You've been up here for over an hour, can you not find anything?"

"Yeah, I…can't."

"Well, what have you got in her here?" She asked, walking around Claire and her bed to get to her closet.

"Mom, I don't need your help." Replied Claire in an attempt to get her mother to leave her alone without blatantly saying it.

Ms. Winfield pulled apart the bi-fold closet doors, and then reached into the farthest right possible, to the black clothes. What she really wanted was a dress, but she knew she wouldn't find one. Claire was extremely picky when it came to clothes, not wearing anything shorter than knee length, or anything that lacked sleeves. With the styles of dresses these days, finding one that met Claire's requirements was near impossible.

Claire groaned listening to her mother rummage through her closet. She trudged forward, moving to sit in the middle of her bed, cross-legged. She remembered the apple Eric had put in her hand, an eerie reminder of him. She moved her fingers over the single bite mark, feeling the squish of browning flesh under her fingers. Hungry, she took another bite.

"How about this?"

Ms. Winfield laid a tiered, black skirt with a small white and grey swirling pattern on her bed, then laid a plain, fitted grey t-shirt next to it. Claire didn't turn her head or move to touch the fabric.

"Whatever."

Ms. Winfield sighed, exasperated. She took hold of the garments, pulling them off the bed and re-laying them on the back of Claire's desk chair.

"Fine, Miss Pissy Pants," She said, walking out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Claire finished chewing, and then tossed the apple core into the trash can, hearing it hit the wall then thud to the floor, missing the bin.

"Uhhh," she moaned loudly, not wanting to get up.

Sitting down had made her realize how tired she was. She leaned back, falling onto her pillow. She scooted under the covers, wrapping them around her, and fell asleep within minutes.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey, so I know it's been a while. Time is so sparse right now, and it's going to be very hard to get chapters out. I'm still writing so stick with me please! One, maybe two chapters can be expected in November, although their post dates may be far apart. Please review with what you like/ don't like about the plot, characters, writing style, etc. Thanks for reading!**

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Ch 9

Sometime during the night, Claire had managed to wiggle out of the pants that were sticking to her sweat-soaked legs and toss them to the ground while still remaining dead asleep. So when her mother barged in her room an hour earlier than usual, it's safe to say Claire was both annoyed and embarrassed, not a good combination of emotion for any time of day, let alone the early morning. Her mother seemed to be barging in at the worst of times lately, and Claire didn't like it.

Ms. Winfield looked from the brown apple core rotting on the carpet next to the trashcan, to the wrinkled heap resembling a pair of pants on the floor.

"How many times do I have to tell you to keep your room clean?" She said loudly, knowing right well that Claire was sleeping, or at least trying to.

Her eyes made her way to Claire who was face down groaning in her pillow. Ms. Winfield wasn't embarrassed to see her daughter in her underwear; she gave birth to her after all and had seen her naked plenty of times. What she did feel though, was remorse when her eyes found the gruesome artwork of scars that crawled up her thighs and covered her back. Bubbly pieces of skin wound around and under angry, criss-crossing red scars, reminding Ms. Winfield of open muscle. White marks ran like vines down her back and thighs, a souvenir of several cosmetic surgeries to remove the worst of the red lumps.

Ms. Winfield's eyes began to water, but she turned her head away, blinking the tears back. Claire mumbled something incoherent into her pillow before flipping herself over.

"What, baby?"

"I said," grumbled Claire, rubbing her eyes to get the sleep out of them, "That I'm not wearing pants."

"Well obviously," said Ms. Winfield, gesturing to Claire's purple striped underwear. "Now hurry up and get ready, we need to be at the cemetery in an hour. And don't go back to sleep!"

With that, Ms. Winfield exited, unintentionally slamming the door behind her due to the open window. Claire already knew that today was going to be an awful day, and the slamming door just seemed to embody her mood.

_Why do people even have funerals? Don't they know what they are putting their family and friends through by going to cry over their dead body? Are all dead people this sadistic? _

Lifting herself out of bed, Claire groggily walked the short distance across the hall to the bathroom so she could properly wake herself with a shower.

Forty-eight minutes later the Winfield's were sitting in a small gray sedan, a very dolled up Anne Winfield cruising down the road. Neither of them spoke, not sure what to say.

Claire tapped anxiously on her leg, already wanting for the funeral to be over with and for her to go back home. The skirt she wore had turned out to be incredibly itchy, and the several mosquito bites that dotted her legs didn't help. It was just another little aggravation to add to her already poor mood. She had also decided to leave her sunglasses and cane home, something she was doing with unnerving frequency. She felt somewhat naked without them, as if she had forgotten something very important, like shoes or dentures. Her mother didn't comment on it; she felt that it was Claire's decision, whether the decision was a good one or a bad one.

At the cemetery, Ms. Winfield led Claire over to two open chairs in the third row back. She made to sit down with Claire, but the gesticulating Maxine Fortenberry forced her to leave.

"It is so nice to see you here Anne," she said, smiling with those crooked yellow teeth of hers.

"As it is to see you Maxine," replied Ms. Winfield with fake friendship. Maxine was a well-known gossip; something Ms. Winfield wasn't fond of, especially when said gossip has spread rumours about you.

"Such a tragedy, Adele passing. She was an angel sent from heaven above."

Ms. Winfield nodded her head in response.

"You know they haven't found the murderer yet," started Maxine.

"The police don't still think that it's Jason, do they? He wouldn't kill his own grandmother."

Maxine squashed her wrinkled mouth together and looked down to the ground most unattractively.

"You can't possibly think it was him?"

"Well he _did_ kill Maudette and Dawn, and _I _hear that he was… _Close_ to them as well."

"Maxine!"

"Well it was either him or a _vampire_!" She said in a hushed voice.

"Now how did you get that idea?"

"Have you not heard? That Stackhouse girl has been _seeing_ a vampire."

Ms. Winfield pulled her head back in shock.

"If it wasn't for that girl," continued Maxine, "Adele would still be alive and with us today."

"My lord," said Ms. Winfield, clutching her chest.

Back in her seat, Claire was roasting in the hot sun. It wasn't even ten in the morning and she already felt like she was in an oven. Sweat trickled most uncomfortably down her scalp, catching on the back of her shirt. She squeezed her shoulder blades together, rolling her head back, feeling utterly disgusting.

Claire listened to the conversations around her. It was her way of people watching, to eavesdrop on people. Most of the conversations she heard were about Adele, respectfully remembering her life, praising her name as if she was a saint, typical funeral behaviour. Nobody came and talked to her, even to just say hello. Eventually, Ms. Winfield came back and sat next to Claire, asking her how she was, to which she replied "fine", perhaps a bit too quickly. She was in a foul mood after all. Ms. Winfield didn't ask any more questions after that, and went on to do her own people watching.

Jason Stackhouse had just arrived, looking dishevelled and overly sweaty in his suit. He kept blinking his eyes, like he had an eyelash stuck in them, and rubbing his face. He walked with noticeable discomfort and pain to a front row chair.

Looking over, she saw two black people, one with long hair that was braided at the top. She could recognize this hair anywhere as the hair of Tara Thornton, a new barmaid at Merlotte's. Next to her was an unfamiliar bald black man, dressed in a sharp suit. She continued watching him until he turned around just enough for her to see his face. She was shocked to see that it was Lafayette, a flashy gay man who worked for both the road crew and as a cook for Merlotte's. He looked uncharacteristically formal, with no makeup, loud colors, or hair scarfs. She looked around then for their mothers, Ruby Jean and Lettie Mae, but couldn't spot them.

While still looking around, she spotted the infamous Sookie Stackhouse standing by herself near the coffin. There was a depressingly empty look in her blue eyes. They were dull, lacking the usual spark that they had. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, not bouncy and happy in loose curls like it usually was. In fact, nothing about her looked as it usually did. It was so miserable to look at that Ms. Winfield looked away to see that people were beginning to take their seats.

Her eyes caught a scruffy looking man dressed in jeans, a white button down shirt, and a tan jacket. She smiled and closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly.

_Oh Sam, what are we going to do with you? Didn't your parent's tell you how to dress at a funeral? That man thinks jeans are appropriate for everything._

The Priest came from behind the set of chairs to the podium, and solemn expression on his face. He gently gripped the sides of the podium, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"Let us commend Adele Stackhouse to the mercy of God…"

The priest began speaking, and for some reason Ms. Winfield began tearing up. He had only spoken a few lines in, but those words were all it took to change the relaxed atmosphere to one of death and sadness, as quickly as a light switch. By the time the priest got to the first reading, a few people were crying, trying desperately to hide that they were.

Claire sat in her chair; sweat collecting in between her breasts, on the undersides of her knees, on her underarms, her toes, down her butt. She wanted to wipe at it, but didn't want to draw attention to herself. The priest droned on, casting a spell on the audience to make them feel bad about how little they saw the person, and then cry about it. She listened as her mother by her side, her laboured breathing making her body shake, occasionally brushing Claire's sweaty arm, a disgusting feeling of hot and wet that reminded her of little league soccer huddles.

After the readings were over, a woman Ms. Winfield didn't know took the place of the priest on the podium, and began singing the hymn "Softly and Tenderly" in a voice that was oddly beautiful, warbling, and slightly gravelly. The woman started out just singing, but as the song progressed, she got more in to it, eventually closing her eyes as the emotion came out with her song. Behind her, Ms. Winfield heard the distinct sobbing of Terry Bellefleur. He had become much more emotional since he came back from Fallujah.

When the song ended, the woman silently closed her hymnal and walked back to her seat. No one clapped; they were too lost in their own thoughts to do so. The priest came back up to podium and looked up to the sky as he addressed God.

"Lord, we gather here today to remember the life of Adele Stackhouse. To celebrate the time that she enjoyed here on earth, to thank you for each precious moment and…"

Ms. Winfield didn't catch the rest of the priest's words, as she was too preoccupied with staring at an old man who was being pushed up the dirt and gravel path to the gravesite. Up in the front row, she heard someone whisper, but it was too quiet for her to hear. As the man was pushed into the audience, Sookie and Jason turned around in their seats to see the man. Sookie looked angrily at the man as Jason reached back to pat the man's knee as a type of silent greeting. Jason turned back around, still looking dishevelled, as Sookie continued glaring at the man.

"And there shall be not more death," continued the priest, sombre.

"Uncle Bartlett what are you doing here?" Whispered Sookie.

What the man said in reply was lost to Ms. Winfield, as his voice was directed away from her. She could guess though that because he was Sookie's uncle, he was probably Adele's brother, or at least a brother-in-law.

"You haven't been part of this family in a long time," she continued, at which point Jason leaned his head back and said something to her, which made her turn back around.

"…Sookie Stackhouse has a few words. Honey, you wanted to say something?" Asked the priest, looking to Sookie.

Sookie quickly gathered herself and stood up. Tara, who was sitting next to Sookie, reached up to touch her arm.

"S-Sookie, you ok?"

She continued walking, opening her small black purse as she did. When she got to the podium she took out and unfolded a piece of paper, smoothing it out on the podium. When she read, it was slightly like a student giving an oral report, nervous, void of mostly all emotion (excluding the nerves), and shaky.

"A-Adele Stackhouse was everything to me. She wasn't just my grandmother, she was my parent, my teacher, and my best friend…"

Sookie paused. Claire was trying to control herself from making rude facial expressions at the girl's horrible public speaking skills. If she had known Adele, and therefore actually cared, then she wouldn't have been so judgmental, but she had been a horrible mood since she had woken up and was very uncomfortable sitting in her itchy skirt and sweating buckets.

"To say she'll be missed… just doesn't cut it 'cus…I can't even imagine a world without her in it." A third pause, shorter this time.

"She was always there with a kind word, and a hot meal… and shoulder to cry on…Not just for me, but," he voice became strained, like she was concentrating very hard, "for everyone that knew her." Sookie paused again, watching the crowed with a hurt look on her face.

"SHUT UP!" Claire jumped. "ALL OF YOU JUST SHUT THE _FUCK_ UP!"

_Did I really just hear that?_ Were pretty much the thoughts of everybody there for the first few seconds, including Claire. Everyone moved around in their chairs as if Sookie's words were more of a strong wind.

_That girl is so guilty from what she's done to her grandmother that she's hearing things. Maybe the family can get a deal at the hospital for both drug rehab and the psyche ward, _thought Ms. Winfield.

Sookie looked at the audience, angry, while crumpling up her paper and throwing it to the ground. She grabbed her purse and took off into the cemetery, far from the critical eyes of her neighbours. Jason, who had been watching her as she ran off, quickly got up and took off after her. The startled looking priest came back up to the podium, watching Jason as he ran past him.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "Is there anyone else who'd care to share a few words?"

A moment passed before a voice in the back spoke up.

"I got somthin' to say."

Everyone turned around to see the voice, except Claire, who remained facing forward, frowning uncomfortably.

"What is she doin'?" said a deep man's voice.

As the owner of the voice made her way to the front, she showed herself as Lettie Mae Thornton, Tara's alcoholic mother. She looked better than usual today, if you didn't notice her slightly wobbly walk. Tara grabbed her mother's arm, trying to get her to sit back down.

"_No,_ mama." Lettie Mae continued walking, shaking her arm to get Tara to let her go.

"Oh my fuckin' god girl, dis is about to get ugly."

Lettie Mae walked up to the podium, and placed her hands on it, looking out to the audience. Claire listened to the woman as she began speaking. Her voice was interesting to listen to, as it sounded like she had peanut butter on the roof of her mouth.

"I didn't know Ms. Stackhouse like a lot of you did," she started. "But the few times I did meet her," she paused, thinking back to all her memories of Adele. "She was nuttun but kind to me. She was good, god fearin woman. And when I was going through some bad things, my daughter would go stay with her, and I always knew she'd be just fine. Adele Stackhouse took care of my baby when I couldn't. And I'll always be grateful for that."

Lettie Mae immediately wobbled back to her seat, not passing by Tara again.

The priest finished the funeral, ending with the words, "We therefore commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life."

People began to file out, some still milling around. While Ms. Winfield was busy wiping her tears and trying to get rid of the mascara streaks her tears had made on her face, Claire was fidgeting. She knew that the funeral was over, but she felt like her mother was making it go on forever. From behind her she could her two women talking to each other.

"I was moved, very moved," Started one of the ladies. "You know, you should come to our next decedents of the glorious dead meetin'."

"That some kind of support group thang?" asked the next, whose voice she recognized as the speaker from earlier. "I went to one of those AA meetin's once. It was nuttin but a cult." The woman's voice changed in tone when she spoke her next words.

"Hi baby! This is my precious daughter, Tara."

"We've met, like a hundred times too many. Excuse us," said a third woman, rudely. There was a small clatter as someone was pulled from a metal chair.

Ms. Winfield tapped Claire's arm.

"Come on baby, let's go."

Claire stood up and placed a hand on the back of the chair in front of her, using the backs as guides to get out of the row of chairs. Ms. Winfield whispered, "stop" once when a person was standing in front of Claire, alerting her. When the person walked out of the isle, she told Claire "go ahead" to set her off again. When they came to the end, Claire walked an extra step forward to let her mother out, and then waited until she was offered her mother's arm. Her palm felt like it had been sprayed with cooking spray, it was so greasy. She didn't enjoy putting her hand on her mother, as now she had her mother's sweat to deal with as well. Following her lead, Claire walked out of the cemetery, grateful for the slight breeze that brisk walking brought.

Ms. Winfield followed the line of people who were slowly progressing out of the cemetery. At the exit, leaning up against the vine wrapped sign pole was Jason Stackhouse. He had taken off the jacket to his suit, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. He blinked and squinted his eyes often, as if the sun was too bright. He was breathing heavily too, as if in great pain. As they walked by him, muttering their condolences, Ms. Winfield noticed that he was making little grunting noises, in pain.

_The boy is already addicted to whatever he's taking, the withdrawal is written all over his face. He's almost lucky that Adele died; now he has an excuse for his actions. Not to mention that fact that he doesn't have to tell Adele, the one parental figure he had left, what he's been up too._

Ms. Winfield brought Claire to their car, opening her door for her and ushering her in so she wouldn't hit her head on the low roof. Claire sat spread eagle in her seat, determined to not let any joints bend of have any skin touch. She gritted her teeth and started counting, trying to get her mind off the mugginess of the car, which was amazingly hotter than it was outside. She left her door open, trying in vain to get a draft flowing. Ms. Winfield entered the car, immediately starting it to get the air conditioning running. She closed her door and put on her seat belt before cranking down the windows, still thinking about Jason's drug addiction.

_Maybe I should try to help him. The boy could use a motherly figure now that Adele has passed on._


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hey, whats that? Holy cow, it's a new chapter! Yeah, I know. I've been so caught up in other aspects of life that I haven't updated in a long time. And I hate to say it, but updates will probably be very infrequent until the summer unless my schedule changes. I also will warn you that this chapter is kind of a metachapter because there were about 4 days in the plot that I needed to skip over. Perhaps this chapter will give you more insight on Claire's life and her relationship with her mother? Hmmm? **

Ch 10

Pam was outside of the Fangtasia, doing the same mundane task of checking I.D.'s as she did almost every night. She kept a fierce eye on the few small groups of people hanging around the bar, the memory of what was now referred to as "the incident" still fresh in her mind. She placed her hands on her hips, setting her dangerous eyes on a young blonde man walking towards her.

He was tapping his thigh, in what appeared to be nerves, clenching and unclenching his fist. He came up to her, but avoided making eye contact, choosing instead to look a group of people to his right. He flashed his eyes back at her, but quickly looked down before saying, "Hey."

"Your mama know you're out in the big city?"

"Well, my mama's dead," he replied, shaking his arms out by his sides.

"So am I."

He continued shaking his hands and flicking his eyes everywhere, never staying still. He reminded Pam of small children, and their painfully annoying trait of constant fidgeting. Thought of the disgusting creatures prompted her to ask for his I.D. He dug in his back pocket for his wallet, and then presented his card to Pam, who had never taken her studying eyes off his face.

_He looks familiar, _she thought before flicking her eyes to his driver's license, then rolled back to him, studying his face again before speaking.

"Jason _Stackhouse_ from Bon Temps?"

"Mm-hm,"

"You related to Sookie by any chance?" she asked, unintentionally lowering her voice, revealing a new level of interest.

Thought of the telepath reminded her of Claire, the seer that came to Fangtasia on the same night as Sookie. She had noticed Claire was different from the moment she met her. She had seen some odd characters in her life, especially sense Eric opened the bar, but Claire was a new type of different. She fell in the Sookie category, an interesting, and supernatural set of people. Thinking back to the night, she remembered that Claire had an unusual scent, one that Pam had never smelled on a human before. It was bittersweet, like a dusty flower, and it intrigued her.

"She's my sister," he said, breaking Pam's reverie. "How do you know her?"

Pam paused, before saying, "She stands out, do you?"

"Uh, no," he said, shaking his head and casting his eyes to the ground. His head snapped back up as an idea hit him.

"Maybe! In, uh, other ways…"

"Why are you here?" She asked, handing him back his card, trying unsuccessfully to make eye contact with Jason. His eyes moved constantly, much like those of a kitten watching flecks of dust.

"Uh, well, you know I heard it was cool, wanted to check it out. I'm one of those open-minded kinda guys."

He turned to face her, finally meeting her gaze. He kept it just long enough for Pam to put her spell on him. His nervous grin and flitting eyes slowly melted into a transfixed expression, which she held for a few moments, until she was certain his mind was under her influence.

"Tell me why you came here."

"I want some vampire blood," he said, as the expression Pam mistook for nerves resurfaced, only this time she knew what it really was; desire. "What time do you get off work?"

"You came for my blood?" she asked, amused. "Huh, well, yes your right," she looked away from Jason's eyes, breaking her spell. He blinked, as if a flash from a camera had unexpectedly gone off in front of him. "You're nothing like you sister."

The corners of her lips curled up ever so slightly. She pulled back her head and opened her mouth, showing him her fangs.

"Go on in," Jason began to walk around her, having to slide his body in between her and the pole that held up the canopy. "And good luck getting out."

Inside of Fangtasia, Eric Northman was sitting in his throne on the stage overlooking Fangtasia. It was a typical night there, full of people, most staying away from the stage. He had his cell phone in his hand, awaiting a reply from a vampire in his area, Bill Compton. He had texted him earlier that night, about how he required the assistance of his human companion, in those words exactly. He didn't dare say help. Eric Northman didn't need "help" with anything, especially human help.

Bill's companion, Sookie, greatly interested him. He had found out rather quickly that she was telepathic because, unlike Claire, she didn't keep it a secret. He wasn't sure what her telepathy meant yet, but he was sure it meant something, something big. He decided he would speak to someone about her, Godric perhaps. Surely he would know something, and if he didn't then he would go to his Queen, Sophie-Anne.

His mind then turned to the other mystery in his life, Claire Winfield. He would have to do something about her, and soon. There was just one little technicality; her age. Even though she was a legal adult, she was still in high school and therefore under the wing of the government, and untouchable to him. There was also the fact that she was blind and could not be glamoured into dropping out of school or leaving her mother's care. Threatening her into leaving school was also out of the question. He needed her close to him so he could use her, or more specifically, her visions. She only had visions about things that were involved in her life, so he needed to keep her close.

_If Bill doesn't respond soon, _he thought looking back down at his cell phone,_ I'll have to tell him myself._

* * *

><p>The next three days after the funeral were depressingly uneventful. Ms. Winfield was working at the hospital from before Claire woke up until after it had gotten dark outside, coming home just in time to make a quick dinner.<p>

Every morning of these three days, Claire would wake up and take a shower. She found that taking showers woke her up much more thoroughly than a cup of coffee could, not to mention that she hated the taste, no matter the ratio of milk, cream, and sugar to actual coffee. After her shower, she would get dressed and go downstairs to put together a bowl of cereal, which she ate to the celebrity gossip and political blend of her favorite talk radio station.

After washing, drying, and putting away her dishes (the dishwasher had been broken for years) she chose between knitting, listening to her book on CD, more talk radio, one of the three channels they got on T.V., and pulling out her pack of Braille playing cards and playing solitare. Yes, there were a multitude of other things she could do, like start the summer work packets from school, call a friend, or go for a walk, but Claire didn't really consider those options.

On the first day after the funeral, she guessed that she played over a hundred games of pyramids and solitaire, enough, she felt, to last her the entire summer. She even tried making a card tower once, but quickly gave up. She cursed the endlessly running ceiling fans for her failure at paper architecture, and then mumbled about how her mother really should invest in getting AC.

On the second day, she took a break from playing cards and switched to the scarf she had begun knitting that winter. It was one-third of the way done already, and Claire had forgotten what color it was. Her fingers quickly became sore from pulling the thread, and her patience wore thin just as quickly with losing stitches, so she switched to her book on CD. She was able to finished _Alice in Wonderland_ in under an hour, so she started the next book she had in line, _Look for me by Moonlight. _After listening to the first few pages, the phone rang.

Pausing the CD, she listened as the phone read the caller I.D. It was her mother. Quickly pulling out her ear buds, she tossed her Walkman on the couch and went to the kitchen to pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey sweetie! How are you?"

"I've had better days," Claire replied.

"Oh… Well I just wanted to ask you if you could vacuum the upstairs. My room, the bathroom, your room, the-"

"Alright."

"Are you ok?"

"Yes."

There was a pause on the phone line. Claire heard the intercom at the hospital call a doctor to a room.

"When are you going to be home?" Asked Claire, wrapping a strand of her hair tightly around her fingers.

"I'm working double shifts tonight to cover for Ms. Mary-Beth, so not until late. There's leftovers in the fridge, or you can make a sandwich, or-"

"Ok." Said Claire, cutting her off again.

"What is up with you today Claire? Something's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, I'm just… Tired."

"Well what time did you go to bed late night?"

"Ten-thirty." Claire lied. She didn't want to hear the lecture that would follow if she told her mom when she _really_ went to bed.

"Are you having trouble sleeping? We're seeing the doctor next week, do you want me to talk to him about it?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Alright," said Ms. Winfield slowly. "I'll see you tonight then. Love you,"

"Bye."

Claire hung up the phone, groaning. She debated going back to the couch and listening to her Walkman for the next hour, but decided grudgingly decided against it. She would undoubtedly forget about vacuuming, and would then have to face the wrath of her mother telling her how lazy she was.

After vacuuming, she felt energized. She sprinted down the steps to the basement, almost falling over a laundry bin, and began digging around the basement pantry. She passed by the four boxes of Froot Loops that were kept in constant stock and contemplated three different boxed cake mixes before settling on a package of instant chocolate pudding.

Upstairs in the kitchen she was mixing the milk and powder with vigor, thinking about how she could "spice up" the pudding. A light bulb went off in her mind as she remembered the container of Jimmies that were in the spice cabinet. She went to look for them, but discovered that not all of the containers were labeled. Popping open a tall cylindrical container, she sniffed the contents. Wrinkling her nose from the dog-food smell, she put the container on the counter and moved on to the next one.

She had never realized how weird spices smelled until now. She had gone through four more containers, each smelling worse than the last, and none of them smelling like the sugary rainbow she expected of Jimmies. Picking up another, much larger and heavier container, she took a cautious sniff. It didn't smell like anything. She took another, deeper, sniff; still nothing. She shook the container as a final precaution. The rattle of larger pellet-like pieces turned the container into a makeshift maraca. Excited, Claire shook liberal amounts of the Jimmies into her pudding before putting the bowl in the refrigerator to gel.

She made herself a peanut butter and butter sandwich for dinner and brought it upstairs to her bedroom, the kitchen beginning to feel eerily empty as the day wore on. Flopping into her desk chair, she sat and began to eat her sandwich, but was interrupted by the soft pitter-patter of rain against glass. She moved out of her chair to sit underneath her window, inhaling the fresh wet scent.

Claire forgot all about her pudding until the next day when her mom was home on her day off.

"Claire!" She yelled upstairs after pulling the green mixing bowl out of the fridge where it was sitting on top of her cups of yogurt. "What's this?"

"Can you tell me what 'this' is?"

"In the mixing bowl in the 'fridge," she yelled, "It's brown with lumps in it?"

In her room, Claire stopped knitting.

_Mixing bowl… brown with lumps… fridge…OH!_

"I made pudding!"

"This is _pudding_?"

Claire put down her needles and made her way downstairs.

"What do you mean?" She asked, walking through the hidden staircase's doorway.

"It has tons of big, white lumps in it. What did you put in there?" Claire paused.

_Big white lumps? I just put jimmies in it, why would they be white? Unless… oh no._

Ms. Winfield saw the expression on Claire's face change, and began to smile.

"I thought… I thought I put Jimmies in it." Claire said slowly.

"Yeah… these aren't Jimmies sweetie." She dipped a finger into the pudding concoction, frowning at how watery it was, and put the finger in her mouth, tasting it. She puckered her lips before announcing, "It's salt!"

"Oh no," groaned Claire, covering her face with her hands.

Ms. Winfield just laughed. Grabbing a rubber spatula from a drawer, she scrapped the pudding into the trash.

"Why did you want to make pudding?" She asked.

"I was bored yesterday, after you told me to vacuum."

"Oh! Speaking of vacuuming," began Ms. Winfield as she washed the bowl in the sink. "Well, cleaning really, I need you to sweep the porch while I'm out tonight. The rain last night brought down some leaves and-"

"Where are you going? I thought you had the day off?"

"I do. It's just that Mary-Beth invited me to go with her to an Oakridge boys tribute band in Ruston ."

"Sounds like a blast," said Claire sarcastically.

"Don't tell me you haven't heard of them!" Said Ms. Winfield, incredulous. "I can't believe it, my own daughter doesn't even know who the Oak Ridge Boys are."

"Well, believe it."

"I'm going to have to educate you on them when I get back."

"So when are you leaving then?"

"Ah, not for a while now. Maybe 8:30? It depends on when Mary-Beth can get of work. But right now I need to go to the grocery story, and the Library, the pharmacy, drycleaners…" She continued listing off the places she needed to go, her voice becoming more unenthusiastic as the list got longer.

"Do you mind if I come?" Asked Claire. She was extremely bored just sitting in the house, bordering on stir crazy. "I need to return some CDs to the Library."

Ms. Winfield smiled. It had been a long time since Claire had actually offered to go on errands with her. It reminded her of when Claire was a child, and the good times they had together. Remembering the past only made the reality that much harder to accept; that her baby was growing up, and would one day leave her.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I apologize for not updating consistently, really I do. But you know, life happens. I'm not going to bore you with excuses, I just want to apologize. I also want to say that I really haven't been in the "writing spirit" if that makes sense. Maybe it's because I haven't been writing/reading/watching TrueBlood like a mad woman since the season ended. Because of this, I have a new timeline for you: I only have one chapter after this one to add until i put this story on "Hiatus" until the fifth season of TrueBlood premiers. Why just one chapter? Well, for starters I didn't want to leave you all with this kind of cliff hanger for that long, and secondly because it is actually a pretty good place to pause. After chapter 12 is posted, season one will be completed in this story.**

**Anyway, do you forgive me? I hope so. Thanks for reading, and please remember to review.**

**p.s. I posted a silly Harry Potter one-shot when i was out of inspiration for this story. If your into that series, please check it out; I'm really proud of it :)**

Ch 11

"_That's when I love Underhill the most," Dad said quickly. "No guests, no interruptions, plenty of time to write."_

"_I guess it's all in how you look at it," Gina said, "but you couldn't pay me to stay there. Not in the winter. Maybe not even in the summer."_

"_Why not?" I stared at her, startled by her bluntness._

_Gina glanced at dad."Haven't you told Cynda about the ghosts?"_

"_You know what I think of that nonsense." Dad winked at me, but I didn't return his smile._

"_Is Underhill haunted?" I asked Gina._

"_Most folks around here think so." _

Silence. Claire waited for the next words, but none came. At first she thought it was just a dramatic pause, or the start of a new chapter. She couldn't have to flip the CD already, it was only a few pages in. She scrunched her eyebrows together and frowned.

_It must be broken. Damn Library CD's, nobody takes care of them._

She pulled her ear buds out and wrapped them up before placing them on her bedside table.

"Good evening, Claire."

A short scream shot out of Claire's lungs as she jumped out of her skin, only to recognize the voice as Eric's. She pressed her hand over her heaving chest, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart.

Eric stood beside her bed as she calmed herself down. She had appeared to be sleeping when he first came in, but he soon realized that she was just absorbed in listening to her Walkman. Rather than speak to her or touch her to alert her of his presence, he chose a more creative method. Pressing pause on her Walkman, conveniently placed on her bedside table, he had watched as her expression progressed from calm, to confused, to irritated. It was actually quite amusing to watch.

"You scared me," she said finally.

"Obviously."

Claire grabbed the top of the bed sheets and flung them across her to she could get out of bed. The cooler air found its way to her bare ankles, making her flex her toes to stop the tickle. She crossed her legs under her, and interlaced her fingers, hoping to keep him from seeing her shake.

Eric had stepped away from her, leaning himself against the wall parallel to her bed. He watched her as she sat there, unknowingly staring straight at him. He noticed the goose bumps on her arms, the overly wide look in her eyes, her too-slow breathing. She was trying to calm herself down, kept from looking scared, but through his hundreds of year experience, he could see straight through it.

"So…" she said, before swallowing. "Did you come here for a reason?"

She was still scared of him, though she hated to admit it. His presence changed the atmosphere of her room to one that oozed tension. However, she wasn't so sure that the tension was a bad thing. If she got comfort able with him, she would let information slip. She may have told him her biggest secret, but that didn't mean she was just going to confess everything to him. She planned to keep a tall and thick wall firmly in place.

After watching her for a moment, Eric broke the silence.

"I did," he replied, "I'm here to tell you that a colleague of mine, Bill Compton, will come in two hours to pick you up and take you Fangtasia. I have work there that requires someone of your… ability."

"What kind of work?"

"I will inform you when you get there."

"And if I refuse?"

"If you refuse, I will be sure to report you and your friends to the police. Entering a bar, especially a bar that specifically caters to my clientele, is a punishable offense in the state of Louisiana."

"Are you, are you _blackmailing_ me?"

"I prefer the word extortion."

Claire's jaw dropped and her mouth flopped open. She lost her posture as her mind spun in the truth of what he said.

_This-this can't be happening. _

"You-you can't do this, people will know I'm missing. My mom-"

"Will be taken care of." Eric finished.

_Taken care of? _Thought Claire. She couldn't believe this was happening. Sneaking out in the middle of the night was unthinkable, only something bad kids did in movies. reaching out at anything that could be used to convince him to let her stay at home and not go back to Fangtasia. She was not used to sneaking out, and just the thought of doing something even semi-dangerous froze her skin.

"Oh my god," she groaned softly into her hand. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"I am glad to know that you're seeing things my way."

"What about this Bill, is he trustworthy? Is he a vampire?"

"I assure you, he is very trustworthy with humans."

Claire opened her mouth again, trying to think of something, anything that would get her out of this situation. But alas, she could not, so Eric took the opportunity to finish the conversation.

"Wait outside for Bill," he said suggested, while making his way to her door. "I'll see you in a few hours then."

Claire was left standing dumbfounded in the air of Eric's wake. Her mouth was still open in disbelief, and her shoulders were now slumped as the weight of information forced them down. She let out a heavy, dramatic sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, to dull the pain paining to throb in the middle of her forehead.

_Damn vampire and his over-confident ass, giving me a goddamn headache, _she thought, her expletives becoming less and less PG as her mental rant continued. The pain migrated to the back of her head where it evolved into a different, familiar type of pain…

"No," she quietly whined, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to suppress the pain. She moved her fingers from her nose to her temples, pushing hard against her skull, trying to stop it but only succeeding in making it worse. Perhaps that was the point, to distract herself with one type of pain over another. As it neared her eyes, she found it harder to keep them shut, the image lurking just on the other side trying to pull the two lids apart like magnets. Finally, Claire couldn't take it anymore, and gave into to the urge.

_She was looking at a metal table painted black, in a room with red wall and gothic lighting that smelled somewhat spicy, but mostly musty, like that of a vintage fur coat. Sitting on one side of the metal table was a short, skinny, woman, scantily clad in a shiny tube top and jean skirt. She looked apprehensive to say the least, and certainly did not trust the other woman across from her. Speaking of which, the other woman looked to be the first's better-behaved twin. She also had blond hair, and looked like vanilla pudding, gap in her teeth and all. The second blond woman had a mixed look of alarm and curiosity in her eyes. Then, all to quickly to be real, the second blond woman began turning herself around when a dark blur flew at her, only to be intercepted by another dark blur coming from behind Claire's vantage point. Claire felt the image slip, spots of the picture fading to black as her blindness returned._

She gasped as she came back from her vision, and the buzzing of her room once again filled her ears. Still breathing heavily, she moved her hands from where they had pressed at her temples to rub over her face, wiping away the sweaty sheen that had formed there.

_Who _were_ they? I've never met them before, right?_

Being blind, Claire never knew how people looked unless they described themselves to her, which was very rare, or they let her touch them to feel what they looked like, which had only happened twice, with her mother and father. She looked back into the vision, trying to recall details to help her decipher what was going on. Yet holes had begun to form, and she couldn't remember certain details, like what the background was, or the color of the women's handbag. It becoming too much of a hassle to remember things she had clearly lost track of, she tried to forget the vision for the time being and focus on the task at hand; figuring out what the hell she was going to do about having to sneak out tonight.

_Well, _she thought, _I might as well start with putting on some actual clothes._

* * *

><p>Walking in his front door, Bill Compton's eye immediately looked upwards to the sliver of light leaking out of the upstairs bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, Bill listened as soft, high, pitched sounds floated into his ears. He dashed up the stairs, and crept down the hallway to the bathroom door.<p>

Swinging the door open he prepared to attack whatever was trespassing in his home. He instantly relaxed his stance and became very irritated when he saw a rather comfortable Eric lounging in a hot bath.

"I texted you three times. Why didn't you reply?" Asked Eric, his eyes still closed in the tub.

"I hate using the number keys to type. What are you listening to?"

"'From a Younger Days'. It's really quite beautiful if you know old Swedish. I have a favor to ask of you."

"A favor or an order?" said Bill crossing his arms, knowing where the conversation was going.

"Depends on how you look at it," said Eric, opening his eyes, "Honestly, How long did you think you could keep her to herself?"

Bill looked away from Eric, knowing that he had found out about Sookie telepathy. It had been pointless, stupid even, to try to keep such a treasure to himself. Eric was a man who knew what he wanted and got it, always.

"I had hoped for longer than this," he half mumbled.

Eric grinned to himself for thwarting the other vampire's hopes. For some reason, a disappointed Bill was also an amusing Bill. It was sadistic, he knew, but everyone has their guilty pleasures, no?

"There is a matter at Fangtasia which requires her talents. I am asking you to escort her and another human to the bar at midnight."

"What matter?"

_I might as well tell him, he will find out soon enough. It's not like he has a choice in attendance._

"I have recently discovered that $60,000 dollars has gone missing from my books,"

"And you want Sookie to help you find out who took it?" Said Bill, incredulous. "Why didn't you just glamour them?"

"Don't you think we've tried that already? You should really consider it an honor that I am using your human."

Bill turned away from Eric in an effort to hide his irritation from his superior. In his mind, he was cursing Eric for threatening his already fragile relationship with Sookie. He knew how she disliked the vampire bar, and he dreaded telling her that she had to go back. She was a woman who did not like following orders, and definitely would not take kindly to an order from Eric.

"You said I needed to bring another human with Sookie and I. Who?"

"She's an acquaintance of mine, a Ms. Claire Winfield."

"Why is she needed?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that Bill," said Eric, _you already have claims on one rather rare supernatural, I'm not about to let you claim another one, especially when I saw her first. _"What I can tell you though, is that while she has been instructed to wait for you outside her home, she may be resistant and not comply."

Surprisingly to Eric, Bill didn't ask why. He was thinking how it would be the same type of struggle with Sookie to get her to come with him to Fangtasia.

Settling back into the tub, Eric closed his eyes again and told Bill where to pick Claire up.

"She's expecting you at midnight. Don't be late," Eric said, dismissing Bill from his own bathroom. Not wishing to spend any more time in Eric's presence, Bill gave him a final glare before shutting the door and stalking out.


	12. Chapter 12

Ch 12

In the front seat of the car, an irritated Sookie was flashing daggers at Bill. She gripped the flowers he had given her prior to telling her they had to go to Fangtasia, the ones meant to butter her up to the bad news. To make it even worse, Bill had to pick up somebody else and bring her along under Eric's orders. Bill was beginning to look like Eric's dog.

Sookie turned her head to see the girl sitting in the back seat. She was facing forward, her eyes still but her hands moving rapidly, fidgeting with the folded, white cane that sat in her lap. Sookie couldn't tell if she was nervous, excited, or what. She hadn't asked her many questions, not sure if she wanted to know why Eric wanted to see her. There were no visible bite marks on her, but then again, Bill had told her of _other places…_

When Bill had pulled into her driveway, they found her sitting on a wicker outdoor couch, the blue cushions faded to white in some places, wearing a pair of black jeans and a light blue, loose fitting blouse. Her hair was down, slightly wavy and a bit messy. Bill went up the house to greet her, and Sookie saw him offer her his arm. Shaking her head, she stood up, snapped a cane in place, and made her way to the car, swinging it out in front of her.

_She's blind_

Looking now, Sookie felt so much pity towards her. She was so young in Sookie's eyes, still a teenager. She had so much she wanted to ask her, but her southern manners told her not to be rude and ask personal questions. Sookie wasn't used to having to speculate though; she had her own way of finding out details.

She paused as she realized something.

_I haven't heard her this entire time._

Had she been trying not to listen? Was Claire just not thinking anything? Was that possible? She was just so used to the peaceful quiet with Bill that she hadn't even realized that she wasn't hearing Claire either. Claire _was _human right?

Sookie turned around in her seat to look at her. She relaxed herself, trying to let down whatever guard she might have up and allow herself to just listen.

Nothing.

She tried again. Claire scratched her head, but no thoughts floated from her brain to Sookie's.

_I need to touch her_, Sookie thought, but felt that it wasn't appropriate at the time. After all, she barely introduced herself to Claire, what with her still steaming over Bill forcing her to work for Eric. She settled with asking a simple question, just so Bill wouldn't get suspicious as to why she had been looking at Claire for so long.

"How're you doing back there, Claire?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Claire replied, remembering to use her manners.

She was on what her mother would call her "best behavior" tonight. For nearly a half hour after Eric had left she was dead set on not going to Fangtasia and resisting any and all attempts to make her go. She had even plotting how she was going to do this (it involved blockading her door and window, then hiding in her closet, plus a finely worded argument) before she realized how childish it was.

_These are _vampires_ Claire. They can do whatever they want and get away with it. _

In the end, she decided on being as polite and mature as possible. She didn't want any of the vampires to look down on her because she was younger than them. This new state of mind also, was what kept her from prying about the powerful amount of tension she could sense in the car. She didn't talk to them at all during the car trip, and they didn't talk to her, or even amongst themselves much really, making the ride seem much longer than it actually was.

Sometime before they arrived at Fangtasia, Claire heard Bill whisper "Is that really necessary?"

"That depends;" said Sookie in an irritated, mildly sarcastic tone "Is it really necessary that you have to do everything Eric tells you to do?"

"Eric is my superior, the sheriff of Area 5. I've already told you this Sookie, I must do as he asks, and _you_ are included in that because you are mine."

_His?_ Thought Claire. _Can vampire's _own_ people? And if he did, why would he be talking to her? Wouldn't she be just food?_

"_I don't care,_" Sookie said, slowing down her words for emphasis, "He cannot just check me out like a library book!"

"Sookie, you still don't understand, he is in a position of great power among our kind. As long as what he asks is reasonable we should comply with his wishes."

_'Position of great power…'_ repeated Bill's words in Claire's head, _I guess I should be more careful around him, _she thought.

Claire heard a loud exhale, presumably from the woman. Shortly after this exchange of words, the car stopped and Claire heard the doors open. She began snapping her cane back into a rod when she felt warm air seep into the car as someone opened her door for her. A little flustered by the old-fashioned gesture, Claire tried her best to exit gracefully. Succeeding, she allowed Bill to lead her into the door with Sookie on his left. A few steps upon entering, a large, cold hand fell gentle on her shoulder and steered her away from Bill.

"Bill," said Eric, whom Claire immediately realized was the owner of the hand on her shoulder. Her muscles tightened involuntarily. "Sookie," continued Eric in greeting.

Eric stopped her next to another person, probably a woman from the way her hair brushed against Claire's arm. Her guess was quickly confirmed when the woman spoke, her voice deep and slow with a southern accent.

"Fancy seeing you again,"

Claire's mouth fell open slightly as she tried to say something. It was the voice of the woman, the one from the first night. The one who had found out she was a minor, and tried to take her to where Roy and Paige were held for questioning.

"S-same here."

Pam smirked. She _loved_ it when humans were scared of her. At that moment, Eric began speaking to the now seated Sookie.

"Pam, Longshadow, and I are partners in this club," He began.

Claire swallowed again, realizing that the woman next to her must be this Pam woman. She shuddered internally as she understand how much power she had, being close to Eric. She subconsciously leaned herself away from the woman.

"And we recently noticed that $60,000 has gone missing from our books. And Bruce," continued Eric, placing a hand firmly on the balding, pudgy man sitting across from Sookie. "Is our accountant. Perhaps you could start by listening to him."

"He's not saying anything."

"Don't be coy, we know what you can do."

"And I know what _you_ can do too," replied Sookie. Claire's lips tightened into a line, scared for Sookie. "Why don't you just glamour him?"

_Glamour? _Wondered Claire. There was still so much she didn't understand, and even more she didn't know. _What is it that Sookie can do?_

"Don't you think we might have tried everything before summoning you?" He said, in quick, hushed words. Claire knew that voice; he was getting irritated with her procrastination. "It would be a great favor to me, and to Mr. Compton, if you help us."

Hearing her boyfriend's name struck a nerve with Sookie, a nerve close to her heart. She wouldn't be able to bear it if anything happened to Bill, but she still wasn't going to let people get hurt because of her.

"If I find out who did it, then what?"

"We'll turn that person over to the police and let the authorities handle it from there," said another familiar voice from behind Claire, the bartender who thought she was an idiot. Claire hoped he felt bad now that he knew she was blind.

"Hundreds of years old and you're _still _abad liar, come on! I'll make you a deal; if you promise to hand over whoever did this to the police, I'll agree to help you any time you want."

Across from her, his blonde hair hanging slightly over his face, Eric smiled.

"Alright," he half whispered in a chilling tone, "Why not?"

The conversation ended, and Eric walked slowly over to where Claire was, keeping his eyes on Sookie the whole time.

"I'm glad to see you made it here safely," Eric whispered, just loud enough for Claire to hear, but quiet enough so Sookie wouldn't be distracted.

"Did you anticipate a problem?"

"Perhaps," he whispered with a slight smile. "Speaking of anticipation," he continued, dropping his voice even further, "Have you seen anything?"

Claire recalled the vision she had earlier, but could still only recount sparse details.

_It was in a room… Red? A red room with… people? Was it a person? Just one? Were there more? I think it was a woman… yes, one woman and… a skinny blonde…boy? It had short hair, was it a boy?_ _Must be a boy… boy that was… sad? No, he was angry… scared? And then there was a blur…was it black? No, it was purple, a deep purple… Blue? It went after the blonde woman… was she scared? I don't know, I really don't know…_

Claire scrunched up her face from thinking, causing Eric to become suspicious that she was hiding something, but she recovered saying, "No… no I don't think so."

"Bruce, it's ok, take a deep breath," Claire heard Sookie say from a few feet away. "Did you steal their money?"

Eric's attention snapped instantly to the table, and Claire felt the pressure lift as he became distracted with Sookie. She hoped he would forget about her non-specific answer and concentrate on the other girl.

"No, no, no you gotta believe me! I didn't do it, I swear to you-"

"Shhh," hushed Sookie calmly. "Do you know who did?"

"No," pleaded Bruce sounding extremely sincere, but Claire knew better than to trust an accountant, no matter how sincere they sound. An accountant screwed over her mother of thousands of dollars when she had been in the hospital.

"He's telling the truth," concluded Sookie.

"You trust the skinny human to clear the fat one?" asked the barkeeper, causing Claire to frown from his rudeness.

"Bring the next one in," ordered Eric, much to Claire's surprise. She began to hear the muffled sobs, which she assumed were coming from the cleared accountant, Bruce.

She felt the woman next to her move away, and Eric lean back against the wood of the bar counter next to Claire and crossed his arms. He looked down at Claire, who was standing uncomfortably erect next to him. Her lip quivered slightly and her fingers gripped her cane so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Would you like to take a seat?" offered a male voice from place Pam was once standing.

Claire turned her head slightly to the direction of the voice, which she now recognized as the deep southern accent of Bill's.

"Um, yes. T-thank you," she answered biting the inside of her lip as punishment for stuttering. She heard the scraping of a metal chair on the floor, and then a cold hand on hers as Bill helped her find her seat. By then, Pam had come back with the next interviewee, who was given no introduction, and Sookie began working on them immediately.

"Eric," whispered Claire hesitantly, not wanting to disturb whatever was going on with Sookie.

He turned his head to Claire, her lightly tanned face looking straight ahead.

"What's she doing?"

"Sookie," began Eric, trying to think of a way to phrase his explanation, "is much like you. She has a gift,"

"Is she a seer too?"

Bill's head cranked away from Sookie and onto the blind girl so fast it's a wonder his head didn't pop off.

_How did Eric find a _seer_?_

Eric looked up from Claire to find Bill staring at him. No, it was more of a glare really. Eric smirked. He hadn't wanted Bill to find out this soon, yet he couldn't help but gloat in his prize. Like always, an unhappy Bill was incredibly amusing. The southern man's eyes narrowed.

Looking back down at Claire, Eric finally whispered his answer.

"No, Sookie is a telepath. She can read others thoughts."

Claire slowly turned her head to face Eric, "Are you serious? Can she read my thoughts?"

"As far as I know, she is only unable to read a vampire's thoughts. How her ability with others is unknown to me."

_I wonder if she was listening to me in the car…_

"She didn't do it," said Sookie from her table. Eric looked at her for a moment before calling for Pam to bring in the next human.

Tilting himself back to Claire, Eric continued their conversation, all while keeping an eye and ear on Sookie.

"I suspect that she can hear you, you are only human after all."

"I guess I should start censoring my thoughts then," Claire said, mostly to herself.

"I wouldn't bother. She can read more than what's on the surface."

The two remained quiet until the next interviewee came and Pam introduced him as the man in charge of their marketing, and the one who came up with their slogan, "The bar with bite".

"Eric," Claire started again, a few seconds after Pam returned to her spot on her right. "Bill said earlier that Sookie was… that she was _his. _Can he really own her?"

"Yes. Ownership of humans is very common among vampires. It's a way for us to save a human we particularly like for ourselves or, in Sookie's case, protect them from others who want them as well."

"Protect her?"

"Sookie's ability is quiet desirable, no?"

"I can see how one would be tempted, but," Claire paused, thinking over her words. She didn't want to ridicule one of their customs, it was rude, not to mention dangerous if she pissed one of them off enough. "I'm not sure I'd want to own a person. It's…It's slavery."

"Yes," said Eric simply, "for most it is."

"It's not him either, Eric." Came Sookie's voice, with a small hint of irritation. She was getting bored of not finding anything, and slightly worried that if she didn't find the person tonight, she would have to come back again another night.

Pam moved once again from Claire's side to fetch another interviewee. Claire almost jumped at the movement; she had forgotten that she was standing there. She wondered what the other vampire thought about her and Eric's conversation.

Walking back in the room, Claire heard Pam announce to Sookie, "This is the last of our humans."

"Mmmmm… yummy." Said the woman, sexily. Claire had no idea who it was directed to, but it made her uncomfortable, none the less, even more so when she felt Eric leave her side, making her sit alone at the bar.

"Ginger, this woman has some questions for you," said Eric, "now be a good girl and answer them, will you?"

"Aye aye master," replied the woman.

Claire pursed her lips, her eyes tightening, slightly disgusted.

_Does Eric own_ _her?_

There was a slight rustling before Ginger snapped, "Don't you touch me."

"Hold her still," ordered Eric.

Claire became slightly alarmed in her chair.

_What was Sookie doing to be able read their minds?_

"Ginger, someone's been stealing money from the bar," began Sookie in a calm tone.

"Really," replied Ginger in less of a question and more of a filler to the conversation, if it could be called a conversation. "Huh…" Inside of her head though, much more was going on…

_Don't look at me you fucking bitch I didn't do nothing, I'll beat the shit out of you if you say I did, It wasn't me who took it, it fucking wasn't me!_

But this was just the top layer of Ginger's thoughts. Sookie dug deeper into her psyche, searching underneath the top layer, panning for gold.

"She didn't do it, but she knows who did."

"What? Fuck you,"

_Shit, how'd she know? I didn't tell anyone I swear, Fuck! He's gone kill me!_

Sookie looked in her memories, dug for the thoughts, but all she saw was a silhouette. No face, not even a definite outline of a body shape. It kept morphing, making her dizzy trying to follow it's shape.

Sookie tried to bring up the memory by asking "Who? Who's going to kill you? Ginger, honey, what's his name?" Sookie paused, confused.

The shadow filled the space, making her mind so blank it rung with silence. There was a hole in her memories big enough to drive a truck through.

"Its-its blank, like her memory's been erased."

"I don't know anything I swear," assured Ginger.

"She's been glamoured," said Pam.

"It's a vampire," confirmed Sookie.

All of a sudden, the details of the vision swept upon Claire's memory like a flood.

"Look out!" She screamed, but it was too late. A rush of wind flew from behind the bar towards the table that held Sookie and Ginger.

A cacophony of horrifying noise came from the middle of the room as Longshadow attacked Sookie, causing both Claire and Ginger to scream. Bill immediately flew to her side, but paused. He didn't know what to do, or what he was even allowed to do. He was in another vampire's nest, and had no right to act upon Londshadow's actions, even if he was attacking his human. He watched in anger and agony as the dark haired Huron Indian choked Sookie.

_If he bites her…_

Standing mere feet from the assault, stood a pale looking Claire, shaking uncontrollably. Her hands now covered her mouth so she wouldn't scream again, a thought that never occurred to Ginger as she continued screaming, the sounds vibrating the walls, until Pam told her "enough," to which Eric thanked her. At their words, Claire realized that Eric had changed positions to where he now stood slightly in front of her, with Pam on his left.

Seconds passed before the scene escalated. Furniture fell, and Claire heard something snap before the sound of liquid hitting the floor.

_Is that _blood?_ Did he hurt Sookie? Is she dead? Lord no, he killed her!_ She felt tears begin to well up in her eyes from fear and sorrow before she recognized screaming. Except it wasn't Ginger's wails, it was a different woman. _She's alive? Did he tear off a limb? What if Bill defended her? Is it Holy Water then? Does that even work?_

Sookie's screaming stopped and was replaced by heavy, uneven breathing. Ginger's wails rose overtop of everthing else, but Claire could still hear a squishy, sloshing sound begin underneath of it. Claire's knees buckled as she imagined a scene in her head, and she almost fell, but she caught herself on the barstool behind her, her hands clammy against the cold metal. Something that sounded like a slush-filled water balloon breaking on the floor finished off the gruesome symphony. She did not want to think of what it could be, but her mind was a cruel being, and gave her visions of bloodied limbs and organs. Before she could even breath in a taste of calm air, Ginger vomited, then screamed some more.

"Humans," said Eric, glancing over at Ginger before watching Claire try to breath. "Honestly Bill I don't know what you see in them."

Still gripping the chair for dear life, Claire normally would have agreed with him, she was just too engrossed in the effort to breath to act on her feelings. Too many times she had witnessed the wrongs of human kind. Her father, sick of the endless arguing over how they were going to pay the hospital bills for his wife's parents and his own withering daughter, sick of the financial burden his family had become, and sick of doing nothing but work the three jobs he was forced to take on to just barely break even, divorced her mother. He left them when they needed him most. He moved back to Mississippi, what seemed like a million miles to the then ten-year-old Claire.

Another injustice was when Claire went blind a few days after the fire and her family's health insurance denied her a necessary medication, which would possibly reverse her medication-induced blindness. After denying her again for a different medication that could potentially do the same thing, the company denied coverage of reconstructive surgery for her burns, calling it "cosmetic". About a month later, when Claire had gotten out of the hospital and was going through therapy, the company dropped them for her mother omitting an case of pinkeye Claire had when she was in kindergarten from their application. Two weeks later, rehabilitation bills piling up and no way to pay them, Claire had to leave therapy.

After staring at the mess for a minute, Pam barked at Ginger to clean it up. The whimpering woman eventually gave in and began piling the vampire chum into a bucket, all while muttering crazily to herself. Bill took Sookie to the ladies room to clean herself up. While they were gone, Eric took the opportunity to speak to Claire.

"I'm guessing you saw this coming,"

"Yes, but I wasn't sure what was… I didn't know she..." She tried to explain herself, worried he may be angry at her uselessness. What good is a psychic that can't explain her visions? "I'm sorry." She finally whispered, figuring he didn't want to hear her excuses.

Taking a deep breath, Eric tried to contain his irritation. "I understand," he said, "but from now on, you will tell me immediately when you have visions of relevance to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Bill and Pam reentered the room, both of which glanced at Ginger who was still cleaning the gore left on the floor. Leaving Claire's side, Eric went to speak quietly with Pam.

"When Ginger is finished, glamour her for me."

"Are you sure? She's been glamour one too many times already. Who knows how much of her's left…"

"It's either that or turn her," he said in a low voice, not wanting Claire to hear. She was a witness, after all. "Do you want her?"

"Please, I'm not that desperate. Glamour it is."

"Excellent."

Bill listened to their whispered conversation with his extra-sensitive hearing, disgusted by their casual talk of toying with a human's life. He looked up as the blond haired Sheriff walked by him.

"Come, I'll buy you a blood." Clare held her breath as Eric passed by her. "You as well."

She swallowed nervously before feeling Bill's hand brush against her. She raised a hand to grasp his cold forearm, allowing him to lead her.

Eric's office was slightly colder than the main room, tickling her nose, and smelled strongly of its occupant. A soft humming sound became louder the farther she walked, and sounded like a microwave. Her thoughts were confirmed as a cheery _ding _struck the air a few moments later, indicating the end of a cycle. Bill brought his arm away from Claire's grasp as he reached for the bottle, thanking Eric.

"How do you stomach that stuff? Don't you find it metallic and vile?"

"I don't think about it. It's sustenance that's all." Eric smiled and walked around to his desk, prompting Bill to ask, "What?"

"Well, if you're their poster boy, the mainstream movement is in very deep trouble,"

"TrueBlood," he continued, he voice taking on the tone of an advertisement, "It keeps you alive, but it will bore you to death."

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" prompted Bill, taking a chair opposite of Eric.

Claire felt the vibrations in the floor as he moved the chair to sit down, and must have shown agitation, because Eric prompted her to sit as well. She swung her cane out in a large arc, immediately hitting something hard. Resting the cane against the object, she followed it to the chair, placing her hand against the backrest to make sure it was empty before sitting in it, still feeling awkward listening to the conversation about blood between two male vampires.

"You killed a vampire, Bill, for a human. What are we going to do about this?"

"What do you have in mind?"

Claire felt oddly like a witness to fight at the principal's office. She squirmed in her seat for a moment before trying, in vain, to sit still. Adrenaline was still making its course throughout her body, and she couldn't help but fidget, all the while knowing it probably cause Eric and Bill much irritation. Then again, that's what she always was, an irritation.

"I'll take the girl-"

"No." exclaimed Bill sternly, too quickly to take lightly. He caught on to this, and tried to cover his mistake by adding, "You can have anyone you want, why do you want her?"

"Why do _you_ want her?" Questioned Eric. "You're not in love with her, are you?"

Claire bit the inside of her lip. It was obvious to her that they were in love; why else would Bill kill someone for her? Yet, with the way Bill was acting, she sensed that there was something erroneous about them being in love. Was it wrong because he was a vampire, or because she was a human?

"Sookie must be protected."

"Now that sounds like an edict, but it couldn't be because I would know about that." Countered Eric before continuing darkly, "Admit it; you love her."

"If I hadn't done what I did, would you have let his disloyalty stand?"

"Whatever I did to Longshadow I would nothave done in front of witnesses, especially not vampire witnesses." Responded Eric once again shutting down Bill's argument and showing himself to be a rather good debater. "You're not smart Bill. Not smart at all."

Bill took a sip of his blood before Eric began again.

"Killing a vampire is beyond my sentencing. You will have to go before the Magister and have him decide."

"You can't be serious," retorted Bill, "The Magister?"

"It is the only way, Bill," answered Eric, before the corners of his mouth turned. "Unless…"

Bill frowned at Eric, showing him exactly what he thought of that Idea. Claire remained oblivious to their expressions. She only felt the room grow tense; something she thought came from Bill not wanting to see whoever this "Magister" person was.

"I'll be seeing you then." Dismissed Eric, but when Bill did not move, Eric looked back to him. "Sookie is waiting for you. You wouldn't want to leave her alone, would you?"

Giving Eric another glare, Bill rose from his chair, leaving his TrueBlood on the desk. He quickly glanced from Claire to Eric, a question in his eyes.

"We have matters to discuss; I'll release her shortly."

Claire froze from her fidgeting; they were talking about her. She listened as Bill's footsteps left the room and the door closed leaving her alone with Eric.

"Exactly how much did you know was going to happen tonight?"

Claire swallowed, "I saw two blonde women, sitting opposite each other on a table. One was sweet looking, the other… not so much. The sweet woman was confused about something. Then there was this blur that went towards the sweet woman and another blur right after that."

"How did you know when it happened, that what happened out there was what you saw?"

"I'm… I'm not sure," began Claire, thinking. "It just kind of… came to me, like Déjà vu."

Eric thought about this for a moment before speaking.

"I have another task for you, Ms. Winfield,"

"No no no," started Claire, waving her hands to show him the extent of her answer. "I came tonight, I settled my debt, you have no more power over me."

"On the contrary, I still very much have power over you. You are a witness to Mr. Compton's crime. If things were different, I would just glamour you and send you on your way, but…"

Claire's face fell, her shoulders and entire posture following suit. She was screwed. Again.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

It seemed to Claire that all bad things began with a car. For example, the disaster that was her first time at Fangtasia, she was driven there in Paige's brother's car. The night when Roy drove her home from Merlotte's she was interrogated by Eric. The day of the Miss Stackhouse's disastrous funeral began with an awkwardly silent car ride with her mother. Last night's incident at Fangtasia also began with a car ride, and now, the night of the vampire tribunal, began with a ride to Bills house sitting in the back seat of Eric's car. She didn't know what kind of car it was, but she could tell it was very, very expensive, and extremely well kept. It still smelled new, and the leather seats hadn't been broken in yet. Either way, the fact that it had four wheels and ran on gasoline portended a bad night. She began to wonder if it would just be better to stay home.

"Eric, Pam," Bill greeted without feeling when they arrived at his door. Looking around them as they entered, he spotted a familiar white cane. "Claire?"

Eric ignored this and introduced his new lackey.

"Bill, Chow, Chow, Bill."

"Nice to meet you,"

"Chow is Longshadow's replacement," explained Pam as Bill closed his front door, sending a breeze of warm air onto Claire's bare calves, brushing her navy blue dress against her knees. She shivered, despite her jean jacket. Perhaps it was just her, but whenever she was near vampires, it always seemed colder.

"Well, I take it by your being here there was no way around it then."

"I can't really say, I didn't exactly look into it." At this, Pam let out a malicious giggle through her closed lips.

"Tell me, do you enjoy it living halfway up his backside the way you do?" Bill asked, attempting a verbal-slap. Pam had learned from the best how to deflect insults though, and responded by saying, "Yes it's nice, you should try it."

"We're going to have to stop by the bar where Sookie works first," demanded Bill. "She needs to know that I'll be gone. Don't forget how this started; she came to Fangtasia to help _you_."

Claire wanted to think about how nice of Bill this was, but she couldn't get over the fact that he was extending the amount of time she had to be in the company of vampires.

"Fine, we'll go to the bar."

"It might be smart to check out the competition," Pam chimed in.

While Eric agreed with her, Claire softly sighed. It was going to be a very long night.

* * *

><p>When they pulled into the parking lot at Merlotte's, Eric instructed her to stay in the car. She was slightly offended by the fact that he was leaving her behind, but upon further contemplation, she realized that it was a good decision. Had she gone into Merlotte's, everyone and their mother would have know what she was up to and word would have gotten to her own mothers ears, the ears that were currently sleeping more soundly then they had in years due to a glamour-induced coma.<p>

When Bill and the others eventually re-entered the car, not a word was spoken. The doors opened, closed, the seat belts clicked, the engine revved and the gravel crunched, but not a vampire's voice was heard. For the entire ride.

_Awkwardly silent car ride, check. Yes, I do believe these are the makings of a horrible night. _

They were on the road for what seemed like forever. The seatbelt buckle dug into her hip as she was squished in the middle seat of the back row. The stiff leather wouldn't allow her to get comfortable, but the smooth drive made her feel unbearably sleepy. She felt her eyes slip closed numerous times, but she always caught herself and tried to make it look like she was blinking. One time, she kept her eyes closed for too long though, and Eric caught her in the rearview window. He looked from her to Pam and back again, signaling for her to look at the sleeping girl. She grimaced.

"Humans," she said in disgust.

The words woke Claire up and caused her cheeks to flush pink. Bill turned from his front seat to look at her, feeling pity. He began to wonder about her, but not for too long. He had his own problems to worry about.

Further along on their trip, Claire felt a sharp stab at the back of her head. She twitched at the sudden sensation, causing both Pam and Chow to look at her. The man quickly looked away, uninterested, but Pam remained watching as the pain Claire felt intensified and migrated.

It was easy to conceal it at first, but it became harder and harder as it progressed. Her breathing became more noticeable and her eyes closed. Catching the noise, Bill turned his head to see what was going on, and Eric glanced in the rearview mirror once again. Claires eyebrows scrunched together as the acid burned it's way to her corneas and, upon arrival, forced them open.

_It was nighttime, in what looked like a huge abandoned parking lot. There was a small makeshift amphitheater of sorts filled with a diverse crew of nasty looking people. Scratch that, vampires. They were all vampires, energized off the action in front of them. There was another vampire, one with dark brown hair bent over a body on the ground. The body had long, slender, pale legs underneath a patterned dress. Though she couldn't see what was happening, she knew enough to guess. The scene began fading to black as the brown haired man lifted his head up from the body, flashing Claire a hazy glimpse at his crimson stained mouth._

Claire's ears popped as the soft sound of tires on pavement reached her ears again. She gasped softly, alerting the others in the car that she had returned. She swallowed before breaking the silence.

"Eric, ahem, Eric?" she asked, having to clear he throat to rid it of the build up from not talking in so long. "I have something to tell you."

"So I see,"

"Um, well, I had a vision, of this group of vampires," she began, feeling self-conscious knowing everyone was listening to her. "They were in a lot filled with old cars, watching another vampire, one with brown hair…"

Eric flicked his eyes over to Bill, who did not return his gaze.

"What was he doing?"

"He was bent over a body, a woman's I think," she recalled, remembering pretty clearly as the vision was still new.

"I see,"

Eric glanced over again, but Bill kept his gaze firmly on the road. He had tried not to hear her, thinking childishly that if he didn't hear it, it wouldn't happen. His supernatural hearing forbid ignorance though; he was forced to know. He wanted to ask her clarify on what the man looked like. He wanted to hear of some feature that proved the vampire she saw wasn't him. But he knew his place; she wasn't his to ask.

"Is that all you saw?" asked Eric. Claire paused before confirming, not sure if she should mention the blood on the vampire's face. She felt that Eric understood what was happening though, so she let it slide.

"Yes,"

Eric didn't say anything. Everyone looked at him, awaiting some kind of response, but nothing came.

* * *

><p>The Tribunal was absolutely nothing like human justice. Judge Judy, Peoples Court, and Judge Joe Brown had nothing on this. There were lethal levels of excitement, and no rules on "cruel or unusual punishment". There were no fines, or jail time; all sentences were carried out quickly and, more than likely, with a heavy dose of pain. Knowing this from her vision, Claire remained unusually close to Eric, trailing along diagonally to his right, with Chow's hand on her shoulder to guide.<p>

When they had arrived at the lot, Claire had begun her routine of snapping her cane into place. Without even looking, Eric firmly told her, "Leave it here."

Claire paused, slightly confused as to why her cane would be a problem. Pam, who had already exited the car, turned to look at her. Not wanting to miss bossing humans around, she continued Eric's order with, "The glasses too."

So there Claire stood, feeling exposed without her cane or Wayfarers to alert people of her blindness. She knew he did it so she wouldn't draw attention to herself, but it still bothered her. She felt vulnerable, trapped, and plain uncomfortable.

"Idiot! You fed on a human that belongs to another," yelled an older sounding man, after a round of cheering came from a crowd overtop of a set of deep, agonized yells. "Three months of starving till your fangs grow back will teach you better manners. Brothers and sisters of the Tribunal, is this fair? Is this just?"

Cheers were his answer. Eric, Pam, and the rest of their group remained silent, on edge. Eric shifted so that Claire was more behind him, but she didn't notice. All she could hear were the screams coming from the unfortunate undead in front of her.

"Oh, Louisa, the other one please, from the root." Claire grimaced, as she understood what the punishment was for the vampire. For some reason it brought back memories of herself when she had been losing her baby teeth. She hadn't enjoyed the experience, the way her teeth wobbled in her mouth whenever she talked or ate, not loose enough to pull but just enough to be a nuisance. "Sentence; passed, and executed. The trial is concluded, best of luck." Claire already didn't like the man and his relaxed view on violent punishment. She began to fear for Bill.

_If this man just fed on another human and had his teeth ripped out, what will happen to Bill, who killed another vampire? Will they kill him, like they do to murderers in human courts?_

"Moving on," The older man continued, nonchalant. "Ah, this looks interesting. Eric Northman, Sheriff of Area five?"

The tension of the group increased, and Claire lowered he head slightly from the weight that the new attention brought.

"Magister," answer Eric strongly, in a tone Claire didn't recognize. It was one of subordination. The Magister's eyes went to the burly man standing a few meters away. His eyes locked on the girl standing behind him, and he instantly recognized it as the source of the smell that had been making his mouth water.

"I see you've brought your human with you," He continued, sounding slightly irritated.

"A witness," Eric corrected.

"Well then," Continued the magister, glancing again at the girl, noticing how uncomfortable she looked, "bring me your murderer."

Eric stepped away from the group, glancing at Pam for a moment before turning to face the Magister. She side-stepped closer to Claire, just as an eerie rattling sound began from behind where they were standing. The sound reminded Claire of a shopping cart going across pavement, but it became a disturbing noise when heard against a silent backdrop. She listened to footsteps pass by her, and sensed a large person cross her path. He wasn't as large as Eric, but still enough to cause her muscles to tense. He made his way over to where Bill was standing, on the other side of Pam, and Claire listened to his footsteps move to where the voice had come from.

"So," began the Magister, looking again at the file describing the murder, "you murdered another vampire for a human?" He raised his eyes to look incredulously at Bill. "You may begin attempting to explain yourself."

Bill swallowed, feeling that the Magister had already made up his mind. He thought of Sookie, waiting for him back in Bon Temps, and knew he had to get out of this. He began explaining.

Claire listened to Bill explain, in detail, what had happened. His voice was calm, with the minimal amount of pleading undertones that one on death row could have. Actually, she wasn't sure what his sentence would be. It made sense in her mind that they would treat a murdering vampire the same humans would treat a murdering human. There was no vampire "prison" that she knew of, so they must execute them, right? She continued listening to the exchange until, by chance, they answered her.

"You decreased our numbers at a critical time in our history. Very bad," said the magister, making it known to Claire that they were not keen on lowering the population of vampires by one more.

As the discussion between Bill and the Magister continued, Bill began running out of excuses, and had to draw on Eric to support him. He brought up how Longshadow had wronged Eric first, by stealing from him.

"Sheriff?" Asked the Magister, checking the validity of Bill's accusation. Claire felt the eyes move in her direction. She shifted her arms so they were crossed in front of her.

"Yes Magister, it's true. Longshadow was thief and a liar. He was hurting my business."

Claire's eyebrows furrowed slightly. He wasn't trying to harm Bill like she expected him to; he seemed to be defending him. Perhaps he just didn't want to lie to the magister. After all, Longshadow _had_ stolen from Eric. Perhaps he was still bitter about losing money.

"Business," began the Magister, "That is a serious offense."

Claire felt a tickle of anger inside of her. _Stealing is a bigger crime that murdering a human?_

"And it was the human who exposed Longshadow. Would you tell him Eric?" Bill snapped.

"The only reason the girl was there was because I called her." Back to the normal Eric, trying to convict Bill.

"To protect your wealth!"

"To protect my wealth, yes." Agreed Eric, no use in denying a fact. "Magister ," he continued, slowing his voice, trying to persuade him, "she is valuable."

"Humans exist to serve us, that is there only value."

Again, Claire felt anger rise up in her. She clenched her fist at her side, an incredibly small movement that somehow attracted the attention of Pam.

"Don't even think about it," she hissed, barely moving her lips.

"There are those among us who think differently." Reasoned Bill, trying his best to remain polite. The Magister, unfortunately, was not a man to be reasoned with, which he explained rather angrily. Bill, already at an emotional high from the pressure, flared with rage, which Eric caught sight of and quickly told him to calm down.

"The usual sentence is five years in a coffin chained with silver, during which time your body will waste to leather ad sticks. You'll probably go insane," Claire drew in a breath. "However, I'm feeling a bit…creative."

The Magister motioned to Louisa, who then went out of view for a few minutes. Claire became worried and confused in the silence. Thinking of a "creative" sentence did not sound like a just punishment. It sounded downright sadistic. She whispered as quietly as possible to Pam, asking her what was going on.

"Be quiet!" was her hissed answer.

Moments later, Claire heard the distant sound of a rumbling engine and tires on pavement. It came closer until stopping, at which point the Magister began speaking

"You have no nest, prefering to consort with humans. You seem to have lost all sense of our priorities," stated the Magister, sounding sinister. Claire wondered exactly what these "priorities" might be. "William Compton, you owe us a life."

At this point, the trunk of the car opened, and out of it rolled a tall, skinny, pale girl.

She scrambled away from the car, falling in her haste in front of the vampire audience. At one glance, she knew what they were and tried to push herself away. Louisa worked to grab her, gently though, not wishing to bruise the specimen. The girl fell from her grasp into a heap in front of the Magister. Terrified with no way out, she began crying.

All Claire heard was small shrieks and some shuffling noises, but that was all it took to alarm her. Pam, who would normally have shushed her at this point, was too absorbed in the new human to care. She walked forward to get a better view, something the rest of the tribunal was also doing.

"No," refused Bill, knowing what they were implying. The girl on the ground was becoming hysterical, praying to God and Jesus to save her. Claire felt the girl's fear, and her own eyes well with tears. She bit her lip, trying to hold back her words.

"Put me in the coffin, Magister," asked Bill, reminding Claire of where she was. She tried to blink back her watery eyes, but it had the reverse effect. A glistening drop rolled down her cheek. She gripped her sides harder, trying to keep herself from drawing attention. "I will go willingly."

"It was the first time I ever snuck out, I just wanted to go to Ashley's party," pleaded the girl. She tried to convince them, but waterworks didn't work on vampires. If anything, it just increased their blood lust. "Please, just please help me, please."

"There's no help for you, child," replied the Magister, rather cold heartedly, to the panic-stricken girl. He turned his head to Bill. "Meet your maker."

"Please don't let them kill me," she whimpered to Bill, "Please I don't want to die!"

"If you want to torture anyone, torture me!" Yelled Bill, sick of the games

"Torture? This? I don't think so. I could show you torture, if you like."

"No, no I was wrong to speak."

"You can quit stalling. What you see in this cow, Mr. Compton, is merely a response to stimuli. Humans are quite primitive, incapable of feeling pain as we do," he reassured Bill "but you know that."

"According to our records, you've never been a maker, is that right?"

"Yes,"

"But you know the procedure?" He inquired, to which Bill answered the affirmative. "Then proceed,"

Bill walked over to the girl, who was mumbling prayers on the pavement. He knelt to speak to her, and mumbled soothing words. Claire listened to the murmurs of his voice, relaxing now that she knew he would make the process painless for her.

"I hate to interrupt, but glamour is not permitted." Said the Magister coldly.

"She's just a girl!"

"You are boring me, Shut up! And do what you're told!"

It was quiet for a moment, then Claire heard a quiet, "No."

A struggle ensued. Claire could tell the girl was fighting, trying to get Bill away from her. She knew, knew that Bill did not want to do this. He tried to make it more comfortable, he tried to tell her over and over that it was going to be ok. It reminded Claire of the fire, ten years ago. She remembered the firefighter pulling her out of the building telling her the exact same thing. She felt another tear roll down her face; what Bill was doing was comparable to rape, violating her with his fangs.

"Forgive me," he whispered, before extending his incisors and driving them into her soft, virgin flesh.

Her screams of terror brought Claire's vision back to her mind. She now had the picture to go with the noise, and it became too much for her. She gasped, slamming her eyes shut, trying to stop the memory.

The excited crowed of vampires gasped and moaned as the sensual smell of fresh blood delighted their senses. Their fangs were all bared, a sign of their desire. Pam, Chow, even the Magister himself was caught up in the girl's pain. Eric on the other hand, was much older, and had noticed Claire's deteriorating emotions. He glanced at the magister, then at his own two vampires, taking note of their distraction. Not wishing to leave his subject alone, but less willing to draw attention to his clairvoyant, he snuck away from the crowd that was gathering around Bill, and lifted the falling girl in his arms.

Her knees knocking, tears streaming down her face, the vision was replayed inside her head, the moans and screams becoming its horrifying score. Nearly ready to fall to the asphalt, Claire felt a pair of strong arms move around her waist, supporting her. Frightened at first that it was a vampire come after the only other human on the lot, she struggled, however pitifully. Eric didn't even notice. He half carried, half dragged her away from the noise.

She eventually recognized his smell, the spicy, musty odor that was so characteristic of him. For some reason, it comforted her. It was something familiar in a place so strange.

The sounds faded until Claire could only hear a chance shriek, and soon she couldn't even hear that. She thought that the screams were terrible, but it turns out, silence was worse. Screams were a sign that she, whoever she was, was still alive. Silence though, proved a much harder gauge of mortality.

Eric leaned her against the side of his car so he could open the door, but before he could, she reached out and grabbed hold of his shirt. He looked back at her, finding her clear, blue eyes open, the rims red, water quivering in pools beneath the iris.

"Please," she whispered. Though she couldn't see him, her eyes reached his. "Please don't leave me alone."

He watched as the water spilled over again, mixing with the rivulets already tracing her face. Such an innocent being, fraught with so much sadness almost invoked emotion in his own, cold heart.

Almost.

"No," he whispered back, his voice hard. "I have an obligation to the vampires of my area."

"_Please_," she tried again, her voice squeaking.

To his amazement, he found himself trying to reason against his better judgment to stay with her.

_Pam will cover for me,_ he thought,_ if the magister wonders why I'm missing. Bill wouldn't try anything, not with so many watching. She needs me here. If I leave, she may not trust me. I may lose the bond that allows her to see into my future…_

Ultimately, that is what kept Eric from going back to the tribunal, his own well being and future. His own goals are what kept him from shushing her when her cries became too loud. His selfish desires are what kept him silent when he wanted to tell her stop sniveling all over the leather interior. But, deep down, thought he won't admit it, his last remaining bits of humanity are what kept him still when she held him through her tears

**A/N: Hey! So I know it's been a month+ since I updated, and I apologize. I wish I could have updated sooner, and I would have (I've had ch 12 finished for about three weeks) but I completely forgot about the Tribunal. It fit so nicely I decided to write that into my season one plot. I didn't want to post chapter 12 and then have a "just kidding!" note about how you have to wait _another_ how ever many weeks for the real final chapter to come. So I thought I would give you a hiatus gift of a double chapter. I hope you like it, and please please please stay tuned for an update sometime in June. I's only about five months away, so be patient! I have BIG plans for season two! **

**Please be sure to review on these chapters. Some things I would like to ask you:**

**1)Do you like or dislike how I "copy" lines from the show? Is it boring to read?**

**2) Does Claire seem Mary-Sueish to you? what do you suggest I do to make her less of one?**

**3) Hows my characterization?**

**4) How much of Claire's past can you guess? is it too confusing? too dramatic/cheesy**

**Thanks bunches! See you in June!**

**-Noxburry**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hey! I'm back! I have an amazing set of chapters for season 2 set up, so buckle your seatbelts! This was my favorite season of TrueBlood so far (and I haven't seen any of Season 5 yet so that may change!) so I am going to have a lot of fun writing this! Also, this is the season where a very important character comes into play, Godric. I've noticed that whenever there is a fic with Godric in it there is always a huge controversy over whether or not to have him die. I myself have been having this dilema, so guess what? I'm going to let you decide! That's right, it is entirely, 100% up to you! I ask you to vote in the poll on my page and, if you are so bold, leave a review or PM argueing your point. **

**One other thing before I let you read, I want to mention that I am aware of the different timeline. I basically quadrupled the normal time jump of two weeks between season one and two and made it more like two months. Other than that, all the times should be correct. I do extensive research (ie, re-watching episodes) to make sure everything is pretty accurate, so I just felt like fessing to my inacuracies would be better than admiting it when someone catches on. Without further ado, here is Chapter 14!**

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Ch 14

_Here comes summer_

_Here comes summer_

_Chirping robin, budding rose_

_Here comes summer_

_Here comes summer_

_Gentle showers, summer clothes_

_Here comes summer_

_Here comes summer_

_Whoosh –shiver- there it goes_

_-Shel Silverstein_

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><p>Beep...beep...beep<p>

Claire swung her hand out, slapping at the clock to stop the buzzing, but only ended up groping around with her hand upside-down. Groaning, she pulled her body into a sitting position and felt the clock to find the off button before flopping back down and immediately falling asleep.

Ten minutes later, what felt like mere seconds to her, the room became bright as an annoyingly chipper voice sang an off-key "good morning!"

"Mom," she groaned back, squeezing her eyes to block out the explosion of white light.

"Happy first day of school," Ms. Winfield continued, still in that annoying singsong voice.

She whined unintelligible mutterings in response and crossed her arms over her eyes. Ms. Winfield moved on to phase two of the wake-up routine and walked over to Claire's twin bed to try and pull the sheets off. Claire knew this trick though and just curled up her legs to conserve heat. Ms. Winfield went for Plan B: to ambush her dangerously ticklish armpits. Claire snapped her arms down and proceeded to convulse in a tickle-induced seizure as she wiggled her fingers.

"Ooh! Somebody needs to shave! You don't want to be fuzzy for your first day!"

"Mom, stop!" She tried to yell while laughing. Claire's shouts were completely ignored until a tickle-seizure knee landed on her mother's ribs

"Ow! Claire!" she giggled while removing her hands from her daughter's underarms. She continued her light laughter as she left the teenager's room, closing the door behind her, taking pride in a job well done.

After showering and dressing in an outfit that had been meticulously planned out for two weeks already, perfectly matching with accessories Claire knew she would never wear again, she walked downstairs. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and smelled of the rosemary-mint shampoo her grandma brought her on the Fourth of July. She had claimed that, upon seeing it, she immediately thought of her granddaughter, but Claire knew the truth. Her grandmother knew of their financial situation and pitied them. She does it all the time too, buys them stuff. She always tried to pass them off as a holiday gift, but really, who gives groundhogs or Labor Day presents?

Claire's layered necklaces jangled as she went down her twisted staircase to the kitchen. The smell of fresh brewed coffee was coming from the living room to her left, obvious signs of her mother's presence. Ms. Winfield used to put flavored creamers in it, but now she either drinks it black or with some sugar. Claire opened the cabinet with cereal and stuck her arm in before Ms. Winfield shouted from the living room, "It's on the counter sweetie!"

Claire got up and walked towards the island counter, at which point Ms. Winfield started shouting directions at her.

"No, turn around. Left. No left. The other left."

"Mom," Claire tried to say calmly, "I can find it on my own."

Ms. Winfield watched her daughter run her hands over the counter until she knocked over the box of Froot Loops. She felt her eyes water up as she watched her daughter, her baby girl, make her cereal just like she had since she could reach the counter. She looked so beautiful now, so different from last year, radiant. She was tan from spending the summer out with friends, not cooped up inside like last year. She went to parties almost every weekend and hung out with friends constantly. She never had any over to the house though which, if she was being honest with herself, was a little insulting. She would have been more than happy to play hostess to some teenagers. Ms. Winfield got the sense that Claire thought she was embarrassing, which reminded her of her feelings toward her own mother during her adolescence many years ago.

Another thing happened this summer that caught Ms Winfield's attention. One Friday night Claire came home from a party, smiling like she'd gotten away with murder. Ms. Winfield had been waiting for her to come home and was reading "the Lovely Bones" in the living room. She turned up to the door when it opened and saw the almost painfully ecstatic smile on her daughters face and had to question it.

Claire hadn't even been fazed by her mother's voice, as if knowing she would be there. She bit her lip and Ms. Winfield could have sworn she saw the glistening start of tears gather in the rims of her eyes.

"Roy… Roy asked me to be his girlfriend." A small, happy gasp from Ms. Winfield. "And I said yes"

Ms. Winfield was shaken out of her daydream by the sound of a porcelain bowl hitting their wooden table. When she looked up, Claire was pulling out a dining room chair, the one that had a long scratch down the back showing the contrast between the wood and dark paint, to eat her Froot Loops. It was funny really, how she couldn't seem to remember how that scratch had gotten there. She smiled again as she realized the irony of the situation, her nearly grown child who was beginning her senior year in high school settling down to eat a bowl of children's cereal.

45 minutes later, after Claire had blow-dried her hair and put on her make-up, two things she had never done before this summer, a series of loud knocks came to their front door. Claire rushed down the main stairs and ripped open the front door.

"Hey," said a smooth, deep voice. If it was possible, Claire smile became even bigger as she embraced the tall, tanned, and handsome boy.

Last year, Lauren, a student-to-student counselor, picked up Claire every day. Claire didn't have any stipulations about being picked up by her. In fact, she and Lauren had become pretty good friends over the years. In Claire's mind, it was just nice to have someone different take her to school. It made her feel more normal, it made her forget that she couldn't, nor would she ever be able to, drive. Many girls at her school were driven by their boyfriends, so by driving with hers, she could blend. As she sank into Roy's car though, she couldn't help but wonder about Lauren, and how she was feeling right now. Would she be upset over Claire not wanting to ride with her anymore?

As Roy parked in the student lot, right next to his ex-girlfriend's car, Claire got her answer.

"Oh my God, Claire!" Screamed a high-pitched voice a couple cars away.

An athletic looking, tanned girl with layered clothing despite the heat ran up to Claire, or at least she tried to run. She had an extra long and very heavy looking patchwork bag banging against her muscled thighs on every stride, making running difficult. She still managed pretty well though, being a cross-country runner.

She had wildly wavy dark brown hair, with golden highlights interspersed next to three feather extensions and little, twisted braids. Black Ray-Band wayfarers, identical to the ones Claire was wearing, sat on top of her head, and where they reached her ears, dangly earrings hung. She wore a flowing peasant top in earth tones that cinched half an inch above the waist of her cutoff jean shorts, leaving a strip of tanned skin exposed. Her feet were adorned in a pair of TOMS shoes, the only simple thing on her. Overall, she was a sight to see among the plaid button down shirts and the cotton summer dresses.

Claire wasn't aware of any of Lauren's getup until she pulled her into a bear hug, and then only half of it was noticed through their touch.

"Oh my God, I feel like it's been_ forever _Claire! Why didn't you call? It's been like, two weeks! I was dyin' girl!" Lauren pulled away, leaving her hands on Claire's shoulders as she seized her up. As Claire knew only too well, Lauren was the self-proclaimed fashion police of Bon Temps High.

"Are those the pants we picked out? They fit you so well, totally worth the cash." Lauren looked up as Roy popped out of the car, his book bag over his shoulders, the straps fully lengthened so that it hung over his butt. In his right hand, he held out Claire's bag, a worn canvas tote with blue straps, for her to take. Lauren quickly squeezed Claire's shoulders and quietly squealed "Boyfriend alert!" before leaving to go catch up with her other friends.

"Here's your bag," said Ray, gently brushing her with the canvas to help her find where to grab. She slung it over her left shoulder, checking with her right hand to make sure her white cane was folded in the side. Taking Roy's calloused hand in hers, she followed him into the schools double doors.

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><p>Claire always believed first days were overrated. Everyone (or at least the girls she knew) planned their outfits for weeks, they decorated their binders with pictures of the summer, and they bought all their school supplies in coordinating colors. Everyone became so excited for the new school year, but Claire felt like she was the only one who knew that in one-week everyone would be begging for it to be summer already. She also knew that the one week at the beginning of every school year was in the top three worst weeks of the year, number one being finals week. The first week is one of the worst because it's basically an orientation week, where you have to learn, or in her case, relearn every teacher's individual classroom rules. Which teachers wanted papers turned in online, which wanted hard copies, which only accepted work in pen, the specifics on how to put away graphing calculators, how you were allowed to go to the bathroom, and more, all laid out in perfect detail on a syllabus. But, of course, no teacher ever thought to give her a syllabus in Braille. They had known for weeks now that Claire Winfield would be in their class, and up until that summer, more people knew her as "The Blind Girl" than by her given name.<p>

_At least_, thought Claire as she half listened to the lecture on safety from her Chemistry teacher, _at least I have a class with Roy._

The day ended much the same way it started, in the school parking lot. As many student's joined the initial rush of cars to get out of the school, Claire sat on the tailgate of one of Roy's friend's pickup truck to wait it out. The friend's girlfriend sat next to her but didn't talk much, leaving Claire to eavesdrop on other conversations, a guilty pleasure she had. From nearly across the lot, she could heard the obnoxiously loud and nasally voice of Paige, Roy's ex-girlfriend. She was talking about one of her favorite subjects, Roy, probably to large gaggle of girls.

"… so then he was like 'I don't know how you found those, there was never a girl in here.' Like, are you shitting me? Where the hell did the panties come from then? Unless _you_ like to walk around in girl's underwear, which I seriously would't put past him!" The girls laughed, Claire rolled her eyes. "So he kept on denying that he was cheating on me, so I said to him, I said 'You wouldn't have panties in your car if you weren't cheating on me, so give me some explanation.' He couldn't tell me why so I said, 'Fine, you're not going to tell me, I'm going to be your girlfriend.' And I broke with him."

"Was he, like, really upset?" asked one of the girls airily.

"Oh yeah, I heard from Kitch that he was a mess. But I mean I'm not going to go out with someone who's seeing someone else."

Claire tuned out, getting angry at Paige's lies. She used to not talk about it, her breaking up. Claire assumed that she just didn't want to accept the fact that Roy wasn't with her anymore. She avoided going anywhere where Roy or Claire would be, missing the numerous trips to the river and even several parties. Her avoiding of them ended in late July and things stopped being so awkward between them; Paige fudged the story by telling people that she had broken up with him because she simply didn't like him anymore, which was a lie. Roy told Claire that he didn't mind, that he didn't want to stir the pot by disagreeing. The latest story is that he cheated on her with another girl. Though Paige claimed to people that she never found out who the girl was, the fact that Claire was dating Roy now gave more fodder to the rumor mill. She made a mental note to ask Lauren about it the next time they spoke.

"Alright man, see you at the Bonfire Thursday," Said Roy, closing the conversation with a quick bro-hug. The other girl on the tailgate jumped off. Claire followed suit, grabbing her bag from behind her in the truck bed. Roy's hand found her's as he led her away from the pick-up and to his faded blue Honda Accord.

When they drove together, Roy usually did the talking. He wouldn't really tell her anything personal, just events that happened in general. Like how in his pre-calculus class some girl tried to pass off her Iphone as a calculator, or about how there was almost a fight in the hall outside the gym between two freshmen. On their drive to school this morning, he was going on about the murder of that woman in the Merlotte's Parking lot. Claire didn't mind having him dominate their conversations though. She thought the stories were entertaining, especially since Roy learned to be more descriptive with her. He used to talk to her very plainly, telling her just the basics, which frustrated Claire to no end. She tried to just deal with it for a while, but that didn't last long.

At Tammy's End-of-the-Summer pool party, Roy tried to describe the layout so Claire would have an easier time getting around without him. Becoming frustrated with his insufferable blandness, she snapped.

"You're going to have to do better than that Roy. What's the pool look like? What color is it?"

"Well, it's an in ground pool, looks like a kidney bean, with the diving board on the far end. The water is blue, ya know, because of the liner. And, uh on our end are some stairs going into the pool."

"What about the people? Who is here? What do they look like?"

That was how their conversation went, her asking him things, and him describing them to her. It wasn't very interesting for Roy at first, he really just wanted to grab a beer and avoid Paige, as she had started going to the same parties as him. After a while though, his descriptive juices started flowing and he really got into it. He only ended up leaving her when a friend asked him to join in on a Chicken fight in the pool.

Roy pulled into Claire's driveway and quickly got out of the driver's side to open Claire's door. He didn't do this because she needed him to open it for her or because he was naturally just that gentlemanly, it was because he knew girls liked it. He knew that acts of chivalry made any woman's heart melt, so he preformed them in excess. He knew about his reputation as a player, proud of it even, but he also knew that he could never keep that reputation if he was a jerk to girls, so he played to their emotions and girlish wants. So what if his friends called him whipped? He knew they didn't get nearly as much tail as he did.

Claire blushed when the door opened. He had done this before, but she could never get used to it. He was just too sweet, much too good for her. He drove her crazy with puppy love to the point where she often mistook it for the real thing.

"Thanks for driving me home Roy," she said, still blushing. He gave her a charming smile, for even though she couldn't see it, he knew that she could feel its warmth.

"Hey, no problem Baby."

He shut the door and reached down to hold her hand, running his fingers gently over her soft knuckles. She turned her head away shyly, but he brought it back towards him with his other hand. It was warm and rough against her smooth cheek, but she rather liked it. Her plump lips parted slightly, silently calling him to come closer. He leaned forward, sliding his hand backwards so his fingers reached the edge of her hairline, teasing her. He closed his eyes before gently pressing his lips to hers. He kept them there for one second, then another before pulling away too soon, purposely leaving her breathless and wanting more.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," He whispered, leaving his hand lingering on her cheek.

All she could do was nod. She waited to hear him walk back to the driver's side before reaching in her bag for her cane. Unsnapping it, she rolled it across the ground to find her way to the walk that led to her front door while she listened to the engine start and her boyfriend roll away.

Once inside, Claire dropped her bag on the kitchen table and reached in the side pocket for her newly bought cell phone, a gift, yet again, from her grandmother. It had been specially programmed with accessibility features for the blind. Opening it, she pressed a button on the side of the device that allowed her to speak to her phone. She checked her voicemail, as she expected a call from her father, because he had forgotten to call her on Sunday, his usually day. Instead, it was a message from an old acquaintance.

_"Hey Claire, It's Sookie! It's been so long since I've seen you, you haven't been in Merlotte's for ages! I was just wondering if you'd want to spend some time with um… With Bill's…"_ there was some unintelligible mumbling, in which Claire thought she heard Bill's voice. "_With Bill's progeny?" _She asked it like a question, as if she was unsure of the word. _"and I. Her name's Jessica and she seems real nice. I thought it would nice for us Vampire Girls to have a night to ourselves, without the boys, don't you think? Text or call me back with whatever works, I'll pick you up if you want, Just let me know! Bye Claire!"_

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**A/N: Let me know what you thought of this new chapter! How does it compare to my previous chapters? Do you like or agree with the way I've presented the characters?**


	15. Chapter 15

Ch 15

Claire sat in her bedroom next to her window, a habit that formed after she started getting late night visits. She had progressed from just sitting on the floor under the window to actually moving her pink beanbag chair next to it. To her, it was a symbol of acceptance. She accepted the fact that Eric would come to visit her and that she worked for him. It was exciting in a way, to have a "job", even if it was for a powerful vampire sheriff who was using her for her psychic abilities. It sure beat working at the Snow Ball stand in the farmers market like Lauren did.

A breeze rolled through the wire screen, ruffling her hair and sending a paper flying. Hearing the rustle as it tumbled across her floor, Claire moved to look for it. She found it pressed flat against her closet door. She grabbed it and returned it to its respective pile on the floor. She was going through some Chemistry notes she had taken on her Jot-A-Dot, and they were giving her a headache. Her eyebrows furrowed as she ran her fingers over the dots again.

_N, the first quantum number, the principle quantum number, the size of the shell…_

In her head she tried to visualize an atom with a shell, but it just looked like an egg.

_L, the second quantum number, the azimuthal quantum number, describes the sub shell and shape of the cloud…_

She tried to make her egg have a sub shell, but seeing as how she didn't know what a sub shell was, it looked like an egg with two shells. A deeper line formed between her eyebrows. All of this chemistry was seriously making her head hurt. She tried to get rid of the image of her egg-atom and create one with an electron "cloud", as her teacher put it. To her it appeared quite literally as a cloud, one that was oddly shaped like an apple.

_Why couldn't he have started the class with something easier? Why couldn't we have done naming or something? That's so much easier than the structure of the atom! _

She groaned aloud as her headache increased, and pinched the bridge of her nose. She decided to move on to English, which was, in her eyes, the furthest away from Chemistry one could get. She felt the binders in her bag, looking for the one Lauren had covered in fabric to distinguish it from her other binders. She remembered something about it being cheetah print, but appearances really didn't matter to Claire.

Her English teacher, Mrs. Fredericks, had given them a two-page SAT vocabulary list. They were to find the definitions of all the words, and then on Friday, turn in a paper about what they did that summer that used all of the words on the list.

_Abomination… Abtruse…Adumbrate…Bacchanalian…Cantankerous…_

Claire could barely pronounce some of the words in the list, and she only knew a few off the top of her head. She sat there for a few moments wondering how she was going to find the definitions. She didn't think her mother even owned a regular dictionary. She had a medical dictionary that was saved from college, but that was it. She thought about asking her mother to look them up on her laptop, but then she remembered that it was broken. Thinking about this made her head pulse even worse. She paused reading the list to press on her temples, and that was when she realized this was no ordinary headache.

Claire began to breathe deeply to help the oxygen flow to her head, which she thought sounded like the medically correct thing to doin this situation. The white heat raced through her head until it reached her eyes, where it surrounded them and pressed against her now closed lids, like water behind a dam. When she finally submitted and opened her eyes, she was not in her room.

_It was a green living room, the shade of which resembled toothpaste, or a hospital. Over an archway was another room, this one painted a sandy brown. Both rooms were decorated with framed portraits of a happy family, but reflected in the glass, the family was the polar opposite. There were three ginger-haired women in the room, a young girl and her mother, both of whom were crying, and a teenager, who was in the act of slamming her father against the wall. The women all looked very similar physically, other than their ages, except the teenager had fangs. _

_Behind the man, the dry wall was sunken in and you could see the bricks behind it. The teenager held him there by his wrists, and her nose moved near his neck, smelling his blood. The man looked past the vampire and said calm words to the small girl in the green room. The teenager reach down and undid his belt like lightening, wrapping it around his neck. She tightened it slowly, giving him time to let the fear truly set in. He reached up to grab the belt, to stop her, prompting the vampire to whisper angry words at him. As the scene faded to black, the teenager grabbed the hair from the back of the man's head, exposing his neck to her two, sharp, fangs._

Claire sucked in a deep, wheezing breath as she returned from her vision. A loud noise shocked her ears, which were deaf to any noise during a vision. As she acclimated to normalcy, she realized the noise was actually music.

"… Just thinking 'bout cha. I don't know what to do, I think I'm falling for you. I've been waitin' all my life…"

Claire scrambled across the floor to grab her bag and dig her cell phone out of the pocket, sending her organized piles or notes and binders flying everywhere.

"Hello?"

"Hey Claire! It's Sookie!"

"Hey," Claire replied, slightly irritated.

"Just calling to let you know Jessica and I are on our way over to pick you up!"

"Ok, thanks." Replied Claire and hung up.

She sighed deeply. Her mother had gone to bed right after she had gotten home because she was working the midnight shift. Claire would have hell to pay if she had woken her up. Plus, she hoped it was her boyfriend calling, not Sookie. She pocketed her cell phone and tip toed to her mother's door. Carefully, she listened for her shallow, rhythmic breathing. When she was confident that she was still asleep, Claire continued down the hall to the front stairs and settled on the couch to call Eric.

"This is Fangtasia, what do you want?" It was Pam. Her phone had dialed the wrong number assigned to Eric's contact. It would have to do for now.

"It's Claire, Is Eric there?"

"No," She answered blandly.

"Oh, well I'll just call his cell phone then,"

"Don't you think you should have done that in the first place?"

"… Thanks Pam, bye."

Her second attempt to reach Eric was successful

"Yes, Claire?"

"I had a vision I thought might interest you."

"I expected as much. Proceed."

And she did. She told him everything she had seen, down to the color of their hair.

"The blonde woman looked really familiar, but I couldn't place it. Everyone else was family, a seriously dysfunctional family. Do you know any of these people?"

"The blonde woman… do you think it was Pam? Sookie?"

"She had curled hair, and wasn't as tall as the red-head vampire. She had shorts on, I think they were plaid, and a jean jacket."

"It wasn't Pam. She would never wear that." Claire had to suppress a giggle."Did she have any distinguishing features? A tattoo, a mole maybe?"

"The vampire, I think she had a mole, above her mouth, but the blonde one… Her one eye looked darker than the other. Maybe she had been bruised, a black eye?" Eric was silent for a moment.

"I know them. It's Sookie, and Bill's progeny, Jessica."

Now it was Claire's turn to be silent.

"Is there something else you want to tell me?"

"It's just that Sookie asked me to hang out with her and Jessica tonight. Do you… Do you think I should still go?"

"Bill's not going to be there?"

"I guess not, she said it was 'just us girls'."

"Hmmm," Eric was silent for a moment longer. Claire twisted her hair. "I don't see there being a problem as long as you don't leave Bill's house. I trust you will inform them. Besides, I want to see how Bill has been doing on his own as a maker."

Claire could sense the smirk Eric wore. She noticed a rivalry between them, a power struggle. Bill didn't really have a problem with Eric being an authority, he had a problem when Eric tried to control Sookie. Maybe it was just a male dominance thing, or maybe Bill really did just love Sookie.

Claire couldn't tell if Eric pushed Bill because he was sadistic or if he just liked to exercise his authority. Maybe it was an old rivalry, men tended to have those, especially considering how old they were. Perhaps Eric just looked for excuses to fight with others. She had certainly been around him enough to know he could punch a guy out.

"I'm not sure she'll listen. You know how headstrong she is," Claire argued.

"That is true. I'll see what I can do to help, but as of now, monitor them, and call me if anything else happens."

Claire expressed her agreement, and hung up. She sat there for a moment longer before she tiptoed back upstairs.

_Maybe Sookie can tell me what "Harangue" means…_

**0**

"Tell you what, why don't you come with me to the dressing room and I could model this for you?"

"That's very kind of you, but no thank you." Replied Bill as politely as one could decline such a bold sexual offer. He really was getting sick of this sort of thing.

"You sure now?"

"I am."

The red-haired woman twisted the heavily studded jean skirt in her fingers, embarrassed. She had expected all vampires to be sex pots, their minds wired to their crotch. She had read in Cosmo and Allure that everyone should have sex with a vampire, at least once. It was the first time she had ever knowingly talked to one, and the first one she had ever seen in the department store where she worked.

"Good evening old sport," Said a stunningly handsome man in a tracksuit. The saleswoman could practically hear her panties dropping. No wait, that wasn't her panties, it was her ovaries. They had just exploded.

"Eric?" Asked Bill, pleasantly surprised.

"It's the new me… you like?"

"I do, very much." Realization hit the saleswoman like a brick wall. She smiled knowingly and exhaled. She didn't even know she had been holding her breath.

"Oh, ok," She placed the skirt back on the rack and backed away, giving them their privacy.

_Damn,_ she thought as she walked back to the dressing rooms,_ those Cosmo statistics were right! Half of all vampires _are_ gay!_

Eric watched her walk away, half-smiling. He turned back to Bill and his smile vanished.

"We need to talk." Began Eric, "but first, what are you doing here?"

"Jessica is not wearing proper clothing, a habit she picked up from Fangtasia I presume."

Eric said nothing, but continued looking at Bill with a "what did you expect" look. Bill's frown deepened and he turned away to shuffle through a rack.

"I'm here to find something presentable for her to wear."

"Well aren't you just maker of the year." Said Eric sarcastically as he turned to face an adjacent rack of girl's tops. Bill turned to glare at Eric, but only caught him lifting a strappy girl's blouse.

"Did you come here for a reason, Eric? Or just to pester me?"

"Remember who you are speaking to," Eric chastised while replacing the blouse. He turned to Bill and said, "The sheriff of area 9 in Texas has gone missing. Have you heard about this?"

Bill's eyes widened. He knew this was serious.

"I haven't but I know the vampire of whom you speak, Godric, correct?"

"Indeed." Eric noticed a small gaggle of people moving to browse the racks behind them. He took Bills shoulder and nudged him. Bill glanced back and continued with Eric down the aisle. "It goes without saying he needs to be found, which is where Sookie comes in."

Bill nearly rolled his eyes in annoyance, but caught himself. He really wished Eric would stop obsessing over his human and just focus on his own.

"No." His answer was reflexive. Eric had expected him to say this.

"She is yours and I'm asking your permission to take her with me to Dallas." He said, trying for a respectful appeal. Sometimes all it took was to give the other a person a little bit of power, a little boost, to make them agree with you. It was sort of reverse psychology.

"Eric you can do whatever you want with me, but I am not putting her into this position anymore. I cannot and I will not allow you to bring her into these matters." And sometimes, it took a little forceful reminding of who is boss.

"We made a deal, your human and I; If I didn't kill anyone she would work for me as often as I like." Eric said slowly. He wanted Bill to know that he hadn't forgotten about their deal. Just to rub it in he asked, "You remember this don't you? You were there."

"Taking her across stateliness is a far cry from taking her to Fangtasia for the evening!" Replied Bill, becoming angry.

"I'm only asking your permission out of respect. If I want her, I can simply take her." Continued Eric calmly, with tones of condescendence. "Is no your final answer?"

"It is."

"Poorly played Bill," concluded Eric as he turned to walk away. He paused in his leave and turned back around, his hands behind his back, confident. "A little bird told me about Sookie having a… a girls night tonight. I wonder where they could be,"

"What do you mean?" asked Bill, his worry for his girlfriend sparked. "Sookie wouldn't leave the house with Jessica, she knows better."

"I wouldn't be too sure Bill. Sookie is heavily influenced by emotions, and Jessica has a _lot_ of emotions. I wouldn't want to see you getting into trouble. Again."

Bill watched, stunned, as Eric turned back around and walked out of the store. Angrily, he replaced the hangers he was holding to the rack and made his way towards one of the side doors, away from Eric.

_I was_ never_ this much of a trouble as a teenager or newborn vampire._

**0**

Claire made her way towards the bright, white lowlights of Sookie's small, faded yellow car. She opened the door to the backseat, and upon entering, a wave of tension washed over her. Sookie tried to cover-up the feeling with her usual energetic talking.

"Hey there Claire! How have you been! How's school?"

Claire heard the person sitting shotgun turn around.

"You're still in high school? Where do you go?" she asked.

"Claire, this is Jessica. She's the one I told you about?"

"I, uh, I go Bon Temps High," answered Claire cautiously.

"That's so cool! I never went to a high school, other than to take my LEAP exams and stuff. I've been homeschooled my whole life," she continued bitterly. "What's it like? Is it like books make it out to be?"

"It depends on who you are, I guess."

"Is there a lot of drama? Do you have a boyfriend?" prodded Jessica. Sookie just laughed.

"Um, Sookie? What's, uh, on the agenda tonight?" She was nervous about her vision and having to tell Sookie she needed to stay at Bill's house. She felt a little out of place, telling an adult what to do, as if she had authority. She knew Sookie wouldn't like it either, which was why she was trying to bring the topic up lightly.

"Well, I was hoping we could do our nails later, maybe watch a movie. Have either of you seen 'My Sisters Keeper'?"

"No," said both girls, almost simultaneously, causing Sookie to blush.

"I guess that was sort of a dumb question. What street is it, Jessica?"

"The next one, on the left."

"What? Where are we?" Asked Claire loudly, panicking as she felt the car turn. Jessica turned back around in her seat to answer Claire excitedly.

"I'm going to go see my parents!"

"We are only driving by, Jessica. You are not going to get out of this car."

There was no reply by Jessica, which Claire took as a bad sign.

"Oh no," moaned Claire, feeling she was too late. It was one thing to try and unconvinced them at Bill's house, but now they were on Jessica's street. It was like realizing there's no water in the pool, mid-cannonball. There was no turning back. The car was beginning to slow.

"This is it, across the street," said Jessica sadly. "My daddy won't be home yet, but my momma and sister should be there."

"We really shouldn't be here, Sookie. We need to leave," urged Claire, but them she heard sniffs coming from the driver's seat.

"Jessica I'm sorry,"

"Well, why are you cryin'?"

"Because I did this to you," sniveled Sookie. "If Bill hadn't… I took your life away, and I know there is no way you'll ever be able to forgive me, It's not even right to ask. But I had no idea that it was going to lead to this." Jessica saw a tear, a clear bead of water, roll down Sookie's cheek. She remembered her own pity party earlier, where she learned that she could only cry tears of blood. She tried to comfort her.

"I don't blame you Sookie,"

"How is that even possible?" Before Sookie could finish her sentence, Jessica became distracted by a movement in the window, which Claire only registered as a slight change in brightness.

"There's my sister!" she said enthusiastically. Without a second thought, or any thought really, Jessica opened the car door and booked it to her own front door, rapping on the painted wood like her life depended on it.

"Jessica!" Sookie exclaimed before unbuckling herself and opening her door. She seemed to be going at a snail pace compared to the vampire teen. "Jessica, get back in the car!"

"Shit!" breathed Claire. "Shit shit shit!"

_Should I follow them? How do I get her back in here? Why did she do this? What will Eric say? What will Bill say?_

From a few yards away, she heard Jessica continue banging on the door. Sookie wasn't helping either by just shouting the name of a supposedly missing person. If her family wasn't running to answer their door before, they certainly were now with the hope of reclaiming their lost daughter.

_"…Call me if anything else happens."_

Claire was pretty sure this counted as something Eric should hear about.

She heard the front door open and realized the direness of her situation. Smacking a mosquito on her forearm, she reached into her pocket for her cell phone. She pressed the number three speed dial and tried to focus on the dial tone instead of loud sobbing of Jessica's mother.

"Hello?"

"It's Claire. I have bad news; Sookie and Jessica are inside Jessica's parent's house."

"And you're not?"

"Should I be?" Asked Claire earnestly. Eric paused for thought before replying.

"No, It could be dangerous. She's highly volatile. Where are you?" As if to emphasize his words, Claire heard a muffled commotion from the house: yelling, banging noises, and even the pounding of someone falling on piano keys. It didn't sound good.

"I'm in Sookie's car, across the street."

"Good, stay there. Bill should be arriving soon."

"H-he will?" Said Claire as more of a spoken thought than an actual question. Eric didn't kid around or joke, especially in times like these. "I know I usually specialize in the prevention of disasters, not the clean up, but are you sure you don't want me to do something? I could at least provide a distraction, a delay in events?"

"Just stay where you are," He repeated.

Before Claire could argue anymore, she felt a gust of warm air go by her open window.

"Claire! What are you doing here?"

"Bill!" She shouted, covering the mouth of her cell phone with her hand. It didn't matter though, because she immediately heard a soft beep and then a dial tone. She snapped it closed and said "They're inside, go!"

She felt another breeze as Bill ran to the front door. A loud crash was heard next, and Claire couldn't tell if it was Bill's doing or from inside the house. She unbuckled her seat belt, wanting to do something, wanting to get in on the action, but knew she couldn't. She felt utterly useless. She rubbed her temple as she felt another headache coming on.

_Damn these vampires and their fucking drama._

She realized for the second time that day that this wasn't a headache.

"No, no, no, no!" She whimpered. "Not again, I don't want to know, I don't want to see it."

She felt like crying but held herself together. She breathed deeply and pressed her temples, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. As she felt the pain creeping through her head, gaining speed, she heard Bill yell from the house.

"Get the Hell out of here!"

The sound of a pair of tennis shoes hitting pavement became louder as Sookie made her way to the car. She flopped in the passenger seat and slammed the door before looking back on Claire.

"Are you ok-"

"Shh," Claire hushed.

Sookie remained silent as the heat engulfed Claire's eyes. When she couldn't stand it anymore, they opened, yet everything was still dark.

_It was black, like the night. As she turned, a road became visible, a gravel road surrounded on both sides by dark trees. As she continued moving, a figure became visible._ _It was tall, and presumably naked. It had elongated arms that ended in the points of claws, and a large head that had two, curling horns. The figure was shrouded in mist, and completely darkened, so only its silhouette was visible. She couldn't tell if it was looking at her, or away from her. Its body barely moved and then, suddenly, it ran, a lumbering, charging sort of gait away from her. As the monster became smaller, another figure became visible. It was much smaller, and Claire felt like she knew her, this young girl ._

When the vision went dark, Claire felt herself moving. She was rocking every which-way uncomfortably in a fabric seat. She was still in Sookie's car, except now, it was racing down the road, a bumpy road, and she didn't have her seatbelt on.

She scrambled to buckle up, not because she was afraid of breaking the law, but for her own safety. The velocity of the vehicle and swerving turns were clearly not the driving of Sookie, and with Jessica bawling her eyes out in the backseat…

"Bill," said Claire softly.

"Bill, slow down, please." Pleaded Sookie from the passenger seat.

"On the contrary, think we should speed up," said Claire, loudly. Sookie turned and glared at Claire in disbelief for a moment before turning back to Bill.

"Stop this, you're scaring me!"

To Claire's surprise, Bill abruptly pulled over.

"What are you doing?" Claire asked in disbelief. They all continued to ignore her.

"I'm sorry, she promised she was just going to look in the window. I know I made a mistake, but, they're her family!"

"She is a vampire! She has no family!"

"I'm a monster and I'm going to be alone forever because of YOU! I hate you so fucking much!" butted in Jessica.

"Be quite,"

"Eat shit!"

"I said be quite!" Bill yelled back, silencing Jessica's tantrum.

"We need to _go_ Bill. These woods are not safe at night." Pleaded Claire.

"You think I don't know that?" Snapped Bill before turning back to scolding Sookie.

_Why would I have a vision about something Bill already knows? I only see things that pose a real threat. If it wasn't a threat, why did I see it?_

"I know," answered Sookie to Bill's lecture. "I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that!" he roared. "And I am expected to what? Forget this ever happened?"

"What else would you like me to say? I knew when she asked me to take her I should say no, but, all I could think about was Gran and what I'd give to see her again!"

"That does not give you license to behave like an irresponsible child! She is a loaded gun, Sookie. Not a doll for you to dress up and play with!"

Claire heard the squeak of the passenger door open, and Sookie get out.

"What are you doing?" Asked Bill, annoyed.

"Walking."

"No, no, NO!" Shouted Claire, reaching maximum capacity on her bullshit meter. She shoved open her car door and stepped outside. "You are _not_ leaving this car Sookie!" She screamed.

"Finally, a voice of reason!" exclaimed Bill, stepping out himself. "Bon Temps is 20 miles from here!"

"I'd rather walk all night then spend another second in that car with you!"

"No you wouldn't Sookie! These woods are extremely dangerous! I've seen what's in there!"

"Nothing is worse than _him_ right now,"

Sookie turned on her heels and walked away, crunching gravel under her shoes. Claire swiveled on her own feet, pacing a few feet away from the car.

"Shit, shit, shit! What the Hell am I supposed to do now?" She asked herself while pulling the hair at her temple. Making her way back to the car, she spoke again. "Bill, oh God Bill, you have to go after her."

"She will come back," He said, more to reassure himself than anything else.

"I doubt it, not with what I've seen," Claire continued, dangling the bait for him to go after her. He still didn't move, so she groaned heavily. Feeling the floor of the car, she found her cane.

"Well, if you won't go after her, _I _will." She said way more confidently than she felt.

When Claire's door slammed shut again, and the clicks were heard from her cane, Jessica groaned from the back seat. She leaned forward so she hung over Bill's seat and watched Claire walk towards Sookie.

"Honestly, Bill. What do they see in you? "

**0**

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**A/N: Just wanted to let you know the next chapter probably won't come up for another week or two. I'll be away on vacation for this comming week and will have limited writing outlets. Hopefully this one will tide you over (it's over twice the length of my usual chapters!) until then! Remember to please review, even if it's just to tell me how much you hated this, and to give your opinion on my poll on my profile page! **


	16. Chapter 16

Ch 16

Claire expected to hear another car door open, a sign that someone was coming after her, to reason with her, to bring her back the car. She either wouldn't admit it to hor didn't realize it, but someone has held her hand through her entire life. Especially since she lost her sight, any ounce of freedom she had was lost. Her mother became a helicopter, hovering over her, putting a spotlight on her every move. She relentlessly tried to make things easier for her, like her quest to get Claire out of reading _Romeo and Juliet _in middle school, or _Beowulf_ last year. She failed only because the school ordered audio books for her instead of Braille copies. She led her daughter through any challenges she faced with painfully small steps. She was, plain and simple, babied by her mother. Not spoiled, just babied. To say that Claire enjoyed it would be a lie; she was just so accustomed to it that it was expected. It is because of this that Claire never asked her mother for help anymore, and she never brought up problems she encountered.

So it goes without saying that Claire became sufficiently worried when no one came after her. She felt scared, alone, and a little bit lost. She had never been alone in the woods at night. She quickly walked down the gravel road, shivering despite the heat. She felt the sting of a mosquito on her back, and since she couldn't reach it, she tried to wiggle it off. Becoming paranoid that other bugs were crawling on her, she scratched the back of her knee, her elbow, and wherever else she felt them.

Her only sense of direction came from the angry crunching of gravel a few yards in front of her, which she followed like the notes of the Pied Piper' flute. She didn't dare yell for Sookie to stop; the monsters lurking in the woods may hear her. She figured her best bet would be to catch up to her, then reason with her to come back to the car. Abruptly, the crunching stopped. Claire stopped too, confused, before hearing a blood curdling scream.

"Claire! Behind you!" screamed Sookie.

A distant, heavy, animalistic breathing, not heard before was now eerily present. Claire froze and her sweat turned cold. A grumble came from behind her, and soon more crunching noises began, except they weren't coming from Sookie. She dropped her cane and ran.

Sookie saw the creature, shrouded in darkness, half-animal, half human. Its arms were too long, and its head too big. It looked alien, yet vaguely familiar. Her adrenal response kicked in, to fight, freeze, or flee. Typically, she would have ran for her life, but this time, she wasn't the one being chased. It was her friend, worse yet, a defenseless child. She had seen enough people die around her, too many. She wasn't going to put Claire on that list. She wasn't going to lie to Ms. Winfield about her daughter's death. As Claire ran closer, she began running too fast to stay upright, tripping over her own feet; she would fall if she kept going like this.

Sookie quickly slide off her tennis shoe and picked it up with shaky hands. After years of playing softball, she usually had very good aim. But the pressure she felt on the diamond was very different from the pressure she was feeling here. She swung her arm in a windmill, just like she did back in high school, and hurled it as hard as she could at the monsters core. But luck was not with her, and the shoe was not as aerodynamic as a softball. The shoe sailed and hit the monster's horn, jerking its head backwards. It stopped chasing Claire and looked at the attacker, so small and scared. It exhaled loudly, clouds of hot breath shooting from its nostrils before starting up again. This time, it bypassed the still sprinting girl and headed for stunned blonde.

It was Sookie's turn to run. Now missing a shoe, her sprint was slower, and she limped slightly as the rocks hurt the soft sole of her foot. But this southern girl was a survivor, she kept going, not even looking back. It wasn't far behind her, she could hear it's heavy breathing like it was though a film. It was angry now, and it's fury pushed it to move faster, much faster than it had with Claire who was now leagues behind them. She knew she wasn't going to outrun this thing herself, she could only hope that Bill will feel her fear and rescue her.

A single scream. A single, shrill scream to rip through the darkness, like lightning ripping through the air. One massive crunch of gravel as Sookie fell. Claire stopped abruptly, but she had been going too fast and fell face first. She tried to stop herself with her hands, but the velocity carried her forward, sliding her on the gravel. She bit her lip, trying to stay silent. She could sense the monster was still somewhere in front of her, still breathing. In the distance, she heard someone running, Bill. Suddenly, Claire couldn't feel the monster anymore; it had vanished. It's presence used to fill the air and made it thick with danger, evil, and death, but now, it was gone.

"Sookie!" Yelled Bill. He repeated her name, as if trying to wake her. He totally surpassed Claire, making a beeline to his love. She heard him crash onto the road, where he started shaking her limp body. "Sookie, Sookie!"

_She, she can't be dead._

Awoken by the thought of Sookie being hurt, she lifted herself from the ground and stood. It all happened so quickly, she was so confused, but it wasn't the right time to ask what had happened to her. Clearly she had been hurt, but how? Did it bite, kick, scratch? Did it melt her brain, implant eggs in her chest, rip her heart out like that woman at Merlotte's? She heard a small pop sound as Bill dropped fang. She had heard this often enough with Eric. Not that he ever fed on her, but the people they dealt with…

_Eric…_

She listened to the gory sound of Bill biting into his flesh and trying to make Sookie drink. It clearly didn't work, as a sound like vomiting followed his attempt.

"I'm calling Eric," Claire said and she pulled her phone out of her pocket.

"Hurry," whispered Bill as he scooped up Sookie from the gravel as gently as he could.

Shakily, Claire dialed 'three' on her phone and briskly walked back to the car. She felt slightly sore, but nothing worse than falling off a bicycle. She nearly tripped over a long stick in the road, which she realized was her cane. Lucky for having found it, she picked it up and swung it to keep from tripping over anything else.

"Northman,"

"Shit just got real, Eric," she began as she heard the car engine rumble to life in front of her. The headlights dazzled her for a moment before her eyes adjusted. She quickened her pace, for she knew Bill, understandably, wouldn't wait for her.

"What happened?" He asked, now concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, but Sookie… Look, I'll tell you everything I can when we get there. Right now you need to dial a fucking witch doctor or something because she could die right here. We're on our way."

Claire shut her phone and continued fumbling with her seatbelt. Being thrown around the way she was in the back seat, it was difficult to keep a grip on the buckle. Just before a hard right turn, the strap clicked into place. She was thrown into Bill's shoulder, which she quickly apologized for, but he didn't answer, too preoccupied with Sookie.

_If Bill and Sookie are back here, Jessica must be up front. Does she even have her license? That would explain this driving…_

Another hard turn, and then a thrust forward pulled Claire further into her fabric seat

"Claire?" Asked Bill softly.

"Yes?"

"Was whatever attacked Sookie, was that what you saw?"

"Yes," she answered cautiously. She thought he was angry with her for not trying harder to protect Sookie. She was formulating an argument in her head while Bill remained silent.

"I apologize, for not listening to you."

"It's alright. Don't beat yourself up over this, Bill. You tried, we both tried. Besides, if anybody should be getting an apology its Sookie, she's the real victim."

"I could never stop apologizing to her."

The car then collapsed into an almost-silence, a warning of bad times ahead. Thinking back, it was somewhat odd how the previous car ride hadn't been silent as well. Claire didn't focus on it long though, theories were meant to be proved wrong. To her left, Claire heard the quiet mumblings of Bill, who had never taken his eyes off the telepath in his lap. He mumbled apologies to Sookie, and prayers to a God who would never listen to a damned man.

Three death-defying turns later, Sookie's yellow car wheezed into the Fangtasia parking, having just gone through a reenactment of Grand Theft Auto. Eric was waiting by the door, and when they arrived, he opened Bill's door so he could carry out Sookie. As he situated himself to leave, he had one last request for Jessica.

"Drive Claire straight home," both Claire and Eric's heads snapped towards Bill in disbelief. "Then take yourself home."

"No," all three said at once.

"Claire will be staying with us," Said Eric calmly. Bill looked up at him, disapproving.

"I want to go with you," said Jessica pleaded.

"As your maker, I command you to drive straight home," She turned around without another word.

Not having time to argue Claire's case, Bill quickly exited the car and into the heavy doors of Fangtasia. Claire grabbed her cane and opened her car door to find Eric next to her. She shut the door and Jessica immediately peeled away, nearly running over her toes. She reached up to grasp Eric's elbow, which he politely held out for her.

Inside, Bill was laying Sookie face down on a large table with a small old woman in scrubs sitting next to it. She was so tiny she looked like she could blow away, or just collapse into a pile of bones.

"What kind of doctor are you?" Asked Sookie softly between coughs. It was the first time Claire heard her talk since the attack. She thought she was unconscious.

"The healing kind," answered the woman in a much more sarcastic tone than Claire thought a doctor was capable of having.

Eric led Claire to a hard metal chair, the feel of which she remembered from the last time she was sitting in one. She took a seat, and Eric stood next to her, but his eyes were only for Sookie. Claire's would be too, but…

"Am I dying?" Asked Sookie weakly.

"Yes," the Doctor, who had identified herself as Dr. Ludwig, said plainly. She clearly wasn't one to sugarcoat things. Claire usually thought being straightforward was the best approach as well. She would rather get the facts so she could just accept them and move on, not wallow in hope forever. But the way Dr. Ludwig bluntly told Sookie she was dying was pretty cruel.

"No, she cannot die!" Shouted Bill. "You will save her!"

"Back off vampire, let me do my job."

"Forgive him," said Eric, not taking his eyes off Sookie. "Bill is abnormally attached to this human."

Bill glared at him, tense due to Sookie's withering condition. He was about to say something back, but she started coughing again and his argument was lost in her shallow breathing.

"Well, we don't have a lot of choices, she's been poisoned," started Dr. Ludwig. "Have you ever heard of Komodo Dragons? Their mouths are teeming with bacteria. After one has bitten you, it will track you for hours, days, just waiting for the toxins to slowly eat away at your nervous system until you're good and helpless. Then it will devour you alive."

"That sounds awful," commented Claire quietly.

"It happens pretty often in the animal world, eating something alive. Look at your friends, for example."

Bill looked away, ashamed at the harsh realities Dr. Ludwig kept bringing up. He had been trying so hard to mainstream, to fit in with society and help the effort to dismiss the old myths. It hadn't been perfect, everybody cheats on their diets sometimes, and old habits die hard. Her rubbing it in didn't help to relieve his guilt though. Eric on the other hand, simply smirked. He found it amusing how much the Healer disliked their race. Her audacity at such an old age was unexpected and entertaining, which was why he dealt with her sassy attitude.

Claire continued facing straight ahead, contemplating her words. Her wording seemed so harsh, "eating people alive". They didn't really eat them, just their blood. It didn't seem that bad to Claire, or at least as bad as straight up eating them. From what Eric's told her, many people allow vampires to drink them, some even ask. It didn't sound appealing to Claire, but Eric said the feeling was pleasurable to many. She began to wonder if Sookie was ever fed on by Bill, what with them dating and all. On the table, Sookie wheezed and coughed, but managed to gather enough breath to ask if she was attacked by a dragon.

"No, this poison is similar, but way more efficient. I don't think I've seen it before but it's hard to tell without further testing and we don't have that kind of time. Give us some privacy; I need to remove her clothing."

Bill and Eric both lingered for a moment as Claire rose from her chair. Not hearing anyone else move, she paused awkwardly. Realizing that the doctor was serious, and catching Claire's embarrassment, Eric moved to lead her again. Bill stayed behind to say goodbye to Sookie, and soon met up with them in Eric's office.

Taking a seat in his black leather desk chair, Eric turned to Claire, who was also finding a seat. Bill was still too antsy to sit, so he contented himself to pacing. Claire felt a pang of sadness for him, but didn't know how, or even if it was appropriate, to comfort him.

"So Claire, what happened?"

Not wasting any time, she barreled right into her story. "She was attacked by this person. It was tall, muscled, shrouded in darkness. Except, it wasn't a person, it had the head of a bull, and long fingers that ended in claws. I saw it in a vision while Bill was... Taking care of things."

"The head of a bull?" repeated Eric. "You didn't see this, uh, Bullman?"

Bill looked away, ashamed. He didn't want to admit he didn't protect her. He didn't want to give Eric another opportunity to try and take Sookie from him. Claire could sense his emotions and wanted to say something to defend him, but couldn't think of anything Eric wouldn't be able to twist. He was very capable of manipulation, Eric was, even when he couldn't glamour someone. He had even manipulated her on some occasions, though always for a greater cause. For some reason, knowing this made her trust him more. No matter what he did, he always had some greater good in mind. After all, he was a sheriff.

"No," Bill finally admitted.

"You gave her your blood?"

Bill paused again before saying, softly, "It didn't work."

"That's very concerning." Said Eric. He was quite used to being the strongest vampire in his area, perhaps all of Louisiana, thus his blood was the most powerful healer of them all. He didn't like the fact that something was threatening that title. "Surprisingly, I have never heard of anything like this."

"I thought vampire blood was supposed to cure everything," said Claire.

"Clearly it can't," retorted Eric before summoning the other vampires, Pam and Chow, to his office. "I thought in over one-thousand years I'd seen everything there was to see."

Through the doorway to Claire's left, she heard the annoyed clacking of a pair of stilettos. Only Pam could give emotion to her shoes. Not far behind them came the soft shuffling sound of rubber-soled men's shoes. He was Pam's opposite in some ways, which made them quite the pair.

"Well, fancy seeing you here, Cupcake." drawled Pam, eyeing Claire.

"Pam," replied Claire, forcing a smile. For some reason she always made Claire feel uncomfortable. It wasn't because she was a vampire or because she was a lesbian, those she could handle. She knew she was safe with Eric, but she got these vibes from Pam. They told her to be careful.

"Search the woods around highway 71. Mr. Compton ran into some... Trouble, there tonight."

"He can do it," said Pam, flicking her head to Chow, "I'm wearing my favorite pumps."

Eric spoke some words in a different language that Claire could not understand. It sounded Germanic, but it wasn't German. Lauren had taken many German classes when she lived in New York City, because that was what she was majoring in her Private School. Now that she lived in Bon Temps, where the only languages available were Spanish and Redneck, she was taking German as an online course. As part of the class requirement, she had to have verbal exams. Claire was her go to girl to listen to her angry German rambling, so it's safe to say Claire had picked up the general sound of the language.

"She is extremely lazy, but loyal." said Eric as Pam clicked back out of the room, off to do Eric's orders. "How's yours, Jessica?"

"Petulant, dangerous, afraid."

Claire giggled at the end of these descriptions. "She doesn't seem very scared to me. More the opposite, actually."

"Believe me, she may not show it, but I can tell. Her mood swings are unbearable, and she does everything she can to break the rules."

"You act as if this is news to you. She's a teenage girl, it's in their nature."

"She is a headache to say the least,"

"I'm glad to see you two are bonding," Said Eric, "Being a good maker is very rewarding." Claire couldn't help but smile at this. Their rivalry could be quite entertaining at times. Bill saw her lips pressed together, the smile in her eyes, and grew annoyed. He wasn't here to be teased like a child, he was here for his girlfriend.

"I have to get back to Sookie,"

"Relax, Bill. Dr. Ludwig treated one of Pam's humans when he was mauled by a werewolf. Lost an eye, but otherwise he's fine."

"I haven't seen her death either, Bill, so don't get too worried." assured Claire before hearing a scream of pain from the main room.

Bill bolted out of the office with his vampiric speed and Claire, at a turtles speed comparably, jumped in her chair.

"As you said, there is no need to worry," guaranteed Eric calmly from his chair, "Such a scream shows her lungs are still in working order."

"I guess you're right," muttered Claire, not reassured in the slightest. She had sort of lied to Bill when she said she hadn't seen Sookie's death. She didn't know who the person being attacked in her vision was, and she didn't see the ending of it either.

**A/N: Chapter 16 used to be A LOT longer, like twice my average, so I split it up. I like to think this was why it took so long to be published. This also means that Chapter 17 should be popping out very soon, so look out! Also, please check out my poll on whether or not I should keep Godric around or let him meet the sun. So far the majority are saying to keep him, but all of that could change so make sure you get your opinion out there! Remember, you can only be heard if you say something. Thanks!**

***update* **

**Thank you so much to treewitch703 for telling me about the major blunder I made by saying Sookie had awful aim. It has been changed now, so I hope everything is now totally accurate. Please let me know if I made a mistake anywhere guys! thanks!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: As **promised, here is Chapter 17! After an excellent constructive criticism comment by BeNeRre, I have altered this chapter a bit from what I had originally written to make it less word for word from the show. I encourage you to give not only positive reviews, but negative ones as well. Voice your opinion! I promise, I don't get offended easily and the best way to hear back from me is to ask me questions or bring up something you think I've don't wrong. Lastly, please vote on my poll for whether or not Godric should meet the sun. Right now we are still overwhelmingly pro-Godric, but that could all change! Without further ado, here is chapter 17!****

Ch 17

Sookie's screams made conversation impossible for a few moments, and in that time Eric took a closer look at his seer. She looked slightly disheveled, but not too bad. Her white pants were smeared with gray dust, and her hair looked fluffy from the humidity. She smelled of sweat and slightly of blood, but it wasn't Sookie's. He looked at the small amounts of exposed skin on her forearms and noticed specks of red, nothing major.

"Are you sure you have not been harmed?" he asked, because one could never really tell with humans. They were so breakable, like porcelain dolls.

"I'm fine, I ran away from it. I don't know why, but it stopped going after me and went for Sookie."

"Perhaps it was always after Sookie," suggested Eric.

"You're probably right," agreed Claire, slightly deflated. "What business would it have with me anyway? Sookie is much more covetable."

"That she is," lied Eric. While Sookie was definitely valuable, it was more of a vampire thing to want her. A seer on the other hand, was wanted by all. "But do not be deceived by this. All gems are valuable, whether they be sapphires or diamonds."

Claire blushed and gave a small smile. True complements from Eric were far and few between. She took what she could get, even if it was a little backhanded.

"Eric, I've been meaning to ask you something. You told me that seers were really common, So why haven't I met any before? Are they those California over-the phone psychics I hear about over commercials?"

"Those people are nothing more than half-baked Magic Eight Balls. The true seers stay hidden, much like you have."

"But if there's so many of them, why haven't they helped anybody?"

"Why didn 't you?" Claire closed her mouth. He was right; before she met Eric, Claire hadn't been able to really help anyone. She had seen terrible things and had done nothing. She had been scared.

"Nobody listens to me when I tell them. They think I'm joking, or lying, or just plain crazy, especially when they come true. I just… I just don't know how to make listen. Short of saying 'Hey! I can see the future!'"

"That sounds like a personal problem,"

Claire closed her mouth again. Eric wasn't one to listen to people blab their feelings, she should know that.

_She's catching on_, thought Eric. His lie was crumbling. She would find out just how rare she was soon enough, and when she did, things would become much more difficult. She would be terrified of anyone who looks at her a second too long. He could tell she wasn't very strong and would spill her secrets when scared enough. She had acted like this when he found her, horrified to the point of tears and paralysis, so it didn't take him long to work information out of her. He didn't have to torture her at all, just a couple throws around and an outside voice was enough. If she just acted casual, like nothing was different about her, then she would remain safe. He tried to force the relaxed attitude by making her believe she was nothing special. It had worked swimmingly so far, but that was all in jeopardy now that she had become curious.

"So, how goes the search for the missing sheriff?" asked Claire to change the subject off her. Eric leaned back in his chair, his body subtly falling from its usual stiff posture. He had become weary from the stress but had been trying to hide it from Bill.

"I've talked to just about everybody who would have any semblance of an idea where he might be. It's been over a week since his disappearance. He told no one he would be leaving, where he was going. No one has heard of any major problems in his area, except..."

"Except what?"

"The Fellowship of the Sun,"

"Aren't they just a group of bible thumpers?"

"Worse than that. They're a full blown church that's organized, televised, and very scared."

"So you think they what? Killed him?"

"I'm not even sure they have anything to do with it. But Godric is still alive, that much I do know. And we must find him."

There was a lull in the conversation, during which Claire began to get some vibes from Eric. It was hard to explain the feelings she got; they were like waves of strong emotion she felt sometimes. When she was near Paige, it was strong jealousy. It gave her a bitter taste in her mouth and made her feel slightly angry. Near her mother, it was usually sadness. It tasted oddly bittersweet and made her feel heavy all over. But right now, with Eric, she felt tugging in her chest, a soreness in her shoulders, an ache in her heart. She wasn't sure what this emotion was. She cleared her throat.

"So what do you plan on doing then?"

"I'm afraid there's only one option left," Eric said before a loud disturbance erupted from the main room. He quickly lifted himself from his chair and said, "Come on."

Claire rose from her chair and expanded her cane. She waited for Eric to pass her, and then waited a second more to give herself room. She swung in wide arcs, hitting the couch leg, the bookshelf, and then the doorframe. She had been in this office so many times she almost didn't need to use her cane, but she kept it with her anyway. It was her safety blanket, her way of telling people "Lookout, because I can't!"

**0**

Claire listened as Sookie convulsed loudly and screamed atop a Fangtasia table. Supposedly, Bill was holding her down, but Claire didn't think he was doing a very good job considering the noise she was still making.

"What's the doctor doing?" asked Claire to Eric, who was sitting next to her, transfixed on Sookie's bare back.

"Cleaning the wound,"

"With, like, alcohol?"

"With her hands. Whatever scratched her also embedded it poison. She's removing them."

"Oh," said Claire quietly, under Sookie's screams. "Isn't there anything we can do to make it less painful?"

"Her body wasn't accepting anything," said Dr. Ludwig, who had been listening. A few seconds passed and Sookie's screaming stopped. It was eerily quiet. "But it should now. Go ahead and give her your blood."

Claire listened as Bill dropped fang. Unexpectedly, Eric raced past her, making her hair rise from the wind he created.

"Mine is much stronger, allow me,"

"Never," replied Bill gruffly, having no patience after the night he's had.

Claire rolled her eyes and sighed, capturing Eric's attention. He let go of Bill's wrist and let him bite himself, then watched as he gave it to Sookie. Claire listened as Dr. Ludwig put her tools away and snapped her case closed. She couldn't even feel the floor shake as she walked, she was so light. She didn't really like that about her, it made it harder to know where she was.

She walked up Eric, peaking behind her, before turning back and beckoning him down. "I may be old, but I ain't deaf. I heard what the girl said in your office."

Eric's eyebrows rose in response before hardening. The Doctor had been good to them so far, but if she tried anything hairy with Claire, heads were going to roll.

"Now don't get your panties in a knot, vampire. I just want to tell you something." Eric relaxed slightly and leaned down farther. "She may very well be the only clairvoyant in all of North America. She is young, scared, and smarter than you will ever know. Now you better protect her and take care of her, because there are others in this world that would do unspeakable things to get their hands on her."

Dr. Ludwig pulled herself away from him, straightening back to its usual seventy-five degree angle. Raising her voice, she said "I'll expect my payment by the end of the week."

She shuffled by him, as if their previous conversation had never happened. Not wanting Bill to notice, he played along and flashed her a charming smile in return, saying, "It's always a pleasure doing business with you Dr. Ludwig."

"Fuck off!"

Once the thick entrance door slammed closed, Claire burst out laughing. "I believe the pleasure is all yours!"

Bill couldn't overlooked the Doctor's surprising reply, but the teenager's bubbly laughter got the better of him. He didn't quite have it in him to laugh tonight, but he did release a small smirk. His thoughts _did _match Claire's entirely.

"It is true, she is no fan of the fang. She only tolerates us as our blood is of such great value to healers." Explained Eric. He turned to Sookie, who was still drinking Bill's arm like a milkshake. "Careful, you'll overcook her."

Claire tilted her head slightly, confused. She really needed to have a long conversation with Eric about vampires. He knew enough about her, it's time he reciprocated. Bill looked down to Sookie, as if he'd forgotten there was someone chewing on his wrist. He slowly pulled it away from her, like a father would take a bottle from his baby.

"Thank you," said Sookie, with an incredibly spacey look on her face. A few feet away, Claire just interpreted it as weary. She had very little knowledge of the use of vampire blood as a drug.

Bill smoothed Sookie's hair down as she closed her eyes, falling asleep. Quietly, he rose from his chair and turned to face Eric.

"It would be best to keep her here," suggested Eric. "I'll make sure she is properly taken care of."

"I agree with you, but I'm not leaving her." Eric's eyes darkened ever so slightly.

"There is an extra coffin in the back," he offered, thinking how he should have gotten rid of it weeks ago. "Longshadow liked to feed before resting, so I assume it's of questionable condition, but you're welcome to it."

Bill stifled a grimace. He didn't really like the idea of sleeping in the bed of the man he killed. Or, rather, the coffin of the vampire he staked. Recalling the former crime and it's punishment brought to light the circumstances he was in now. He was in Eric's debt. Again.

"I want to thank you for your hospitality," began Bill, trying for a mannerly approach to get off Eric's list. "And for saving Sookie's life."

"I'm sure there's a way she can repay me,"

Bill frowned. He couldn't stand it when Sookie was brought into these matters. He took advantage of her and her ignorance to how special she really was. He watched as Eric sauntered over to Claire, his new toy. It was one thing to screw around with older women, women who come begging on their knees to Fangtasia. But this, this was an innocent child, a young girl, with a life and a future ahead of her. She hadn't asked for any of this, Eric had forced it upon her. He had gone too far this time, playing games with human life. And the worst part was, Claire was completely blind to it all.

Claire sensed Eric to her right and a thought came to her head. Reaching up, she tugged on the hem of his track jacket to gain his attention.

"What time is it?" she whispered

"Three fifteen,"

"Oh _no_," Claire groaned, bringing her hand to her temple. "In the _morning?"_

"Yes, what is it?" Asked Eric. By now, Bill had turned around too, interested in anything that could surprise a clairvoyant.

"It's a school night," she whined. Eric's shoulders dropped and Bill turned back to Sookie, uninterested in the trivial problems of a teenager. "And my mother's going to be home in less than an hour."

Eric stood back up from his crouch, slightly disappointed. He had been expecting some real information, something on the Bull monster, on Godric, or other problems in his area as she had been doing all summer.

The thick entrance doors opened and two disheveled vampires walked in. Pam swayed into view with her hands on her pink tweed skirt and an annoyed grimace on her face. She had leaves in her hair and mud on her shiny, patent leather shoes. Chow followed behind her, looking less messy since he only wore black. Claire could only tell they were dirty from their smell, but that was enough for her.

"The area has been scanned," she informed him, irritated. Claire had yet to be in her presence when she wasn't irritated. She had originally thought that Pam was always irritated because of her, but was later informed by Eric that she was pretty much always like that.

"The tracks were human, but the smell was distinctly animal," continued Chow.

"And a filthy one at that," she answered sarcastically.

"We didn't recognize it," clarified the Asian vampire. He was a man of few words and even fewer emotions. Claire liked that about him, the strong and silent type.

"How intriguing. I'll send an alert through the appropriate channels. Find out what the neighbors know." Pam turned to leave the room, change out of her filthy clothes and call that cobbler for her shoes, when Eric spoke up for one last comment. "Oh and Pam, those were great pumps."

A devilish grin spread across his face as Pam stalked out of the room. She caught a glimpse of a small smile on Claire's face, one she was trying to hide. She sneered at her before slamming the door to the hallway that led to their housing.

"Do you have to tease her like that?" Whispered Claire through a giggle.

"It was merely the truth," answered Eric before pulling his phone out of his pocket. He punched in numbers with lightning speed, so fast Claire only registered it as one tone, then brought the phone to his ear. "The sun will be rising soon; none of us will be able to take you home in time."

A groggy, masculine sounding voice answered on the other end of the phone.

"Good Morning Mr. Hamby, I have some small chauffer work for you…"

* * *

><p>Chugging down a backcountry road, Claire rode shotgun in a slightly beat-up pick-up truck. Driving was a familiar voice, one that had helped her in the past. She wondered now what someone like him had done to get in Eric's "debt", as he put it. She didn't want to straight out ask him, it would be rude to pry. But she couldn't help herself; nosiness was in her southern blood.<p>

"John, Eric said you were in his 'debt'…" started Claire slowly, hoping he would get the hint and just tell her.

"Did he now?"

"How did… What did you… Why does he…" continued Claire, beating the bush like it was her job.

"I'd rather not say," declined John politely.

He knew she was just curious. It was something anybody would ask, what he did to be in someone's debt, especially a vampire Sheriff's debt. _It must be pretty bad, _they think. And, if he was being honest with himself, it was. At the time, it didn't strike him as such. He heard of so many others doing it that it was practically legal. He was glad he got out alive, but now he had to pay the price. He would probably be in Eric's debt for the rest of his life.

Claire began fiddling with her cane again, which distracted John. He just couldn't get over the fact that he was seeing this girl again.

_How did she get caught up with the vamps? Is she in their debt too? _

He remembered when they first met. He was so drunk it was a miracle their encounter didn't blackout like the rest of that night. She was the one thing he remembered. She was so different than all the other fang-bangers and wannabes in the room. She was so innocent, it's a wonder he was the first one to confront her. Someone looking as sweet as she did should have been eaten up in minutes, literally.

He remembered how she had this short, raging headache, how he though she was going to explode or something. He remembered how she somehow knew about the cops, the time they were coming, what they were going to do. He had wondered for the longest time if she had been an undercover teen cop, like on 21 Jumpstreet. Then he'd sobered up and realized that was ridiculous.

"You know," started John, breaking the silence. "I never got to thank you for what you did. Telling me about the raid, getting me out of there. How _did_ you know about the raid?"

Claire thought about telling him truthfully. Eric _had_ told her she was pretty common. Would it be a big deal if she told him? For all she knew, he was one too. Three months ago, this wouldn't even be a question, but now that she's told somebody, it didn't seem to be a big deal. Hell, Sookie was a telepath and she didn't hide it. Vampires had come out of the coffin too, and she had found over the summer that even more mythical beings were real than she thought possible.

"I'd rather not say," She said quietly, trying to hide her smile by turning to the window. She wasn't in the mood to go through this with him. It was nearly four in the morning and she would have to get up and go to school in less than three hours. She was tired, hungry, dirty, and had had an awful night. Not to mention he hadn't told her what she wanted to know.

_Nothing comes for free,_ chided Claire in her head_._

She reached in her pocket and pulled out her phone to keep John from talking to her. He was a nice guy and all, but she wasn't in the mood to talk. It told her aloud that she had a new voicemail, which she called.

_"Oh my _God_ Claire! I can't believe you missed it, there was a mad party at Merlotte's tonight! Practically everybody from town was there, a genuine rager! Roy was totally shitfaced along with everybody else, but I was DD. So I'll be at your house to take you to school tomorrow, just thought I'd let you know! Bis später Mädchen!"_


	18. Chapter 18

Ch 18

Unexpectedly, Claire did not wake up to her alarm clock the next morning. In its place stood a pounding headache. She immediately knew it was a vision, which was bad enough, but there was only one thing she could imagine having a vision about right now.

_Sookie…_

"Please, please don't let her die, please," she whispered, begging the fates to let her live. She pushed against the vision, fought it, feeling that if maybe she didn't see it, it wouldn't happen. This only made it more painful, but she tried anyway. It was inevitable though, for against her will, the temporary sight was granted, and as the blackness became brighter, blurry colors made themselves visible.

_The picture began focusing, and Claire came to realize that this had nothing to do with Sookie .It was a large electronic screen, like you see at the side of the road near a construction site. All of the words were spelled with dots of light on a black background. On the left side, there were seemingly nonsensical letters and numbers, and then to the middle of the screen, locations were listed: Atlanta, Orlando, Memphis, Dallas, Las Vegas. For some reason she was drawn to Dallas, she felt that it was important, but didn't know why. She followed the row to the right and in bright red, capital letters, it said that the flight was delayed. Immediately after she read it, her vision began to swirl again, as if she herself was spinning. Soon it all faded back to black._

Beep Beep Beep

When Claire was able to feel her bed sheets again, she knew it was over. She listened to her alarm clock furiously beep at her, and moved her hand to slap at the machine.

_At least I wasn't woken up much earlier than I normally would, _thought Claire.

She continued slapping, and when that didn't work she sat up properly and felt for the button. Finding the raised rectangle, she pressed down firmly.

Beep Beep Beep

She pressed down again, but the noise continued. She pressed the rectangle rapid fire before pounding it with her fist. She groaned loudly in aggravation. She yanked her bedside table away from the wall, knocking her earbuds to the floor. Groping around, she found the plug to the alarm and pulled.

Beep Beep Beep

"What the Hell," Claire whispered angrily. As a last resort, she took the clock over to the window and shoved it underneath her beanbag. As expected, it did nothing to stop the beeping, but it didn't muffle it either.

Defeated, Claire threw her hands up in the air. Her absolute last resort would have been to call her mother, but she couldn't because she was still sleeping. Though Ms. Winfield wasn't a particularly deep sleeper, she slept on opposite ends and sides of the floor as her daughter. Claire also knew she believed it comfortable to sleep facedown with her head under her pillows. She shouldn't hear the alarm, and even if she happened to wake up because of it, Claire would be in the shower, safe and sound.

The sound of the water and the bathroom fan had drowned out the noise of her alarm clock, and when she was back in her room, she realized that the beeping had finally stopped. She didn't have time to put her clock back together though, Lauren was a notorious early bird. She claimed she liked to skip the traffic of all the other teenagers rushing to beat second bell, and that she liked to have a parking spot up front. All this meant to Claire was that she would be arriving fifteen minutes earlier than Roy had been, which cut right into her hair time. She left her clock under the beanbag and rifled though her closet, looking for something with long sleeves to cover the small bruises and scrapes she gained last night.

While going through her morning routine, at double her normal speed mind you, thoughts of Fangtasia nagged at the back of her mind. She kept thinking of Sookie, and if she had woken up yet, a silly thought considering the time of morning it was. She wondered if Ginger was there with her, if they were getting along. She became so distracted at one point that she accidentally touched the mascara wand to her brow bone, leaving a thick smudge of goop on her face. It took five precious minutes to fix, during which time Lauren arrived.

_I guess it's good that Roy's not here; he doesn't have to see me looking like a mess. _

Pulling in, the parking lot was nearly silent. There were no voices, no country music blaring from car radios. If Claire didn't know any better, she would say her and Lauren were the only ones here.

"Bryce told me Ms. Albert was having a pop quiz today. On what, I have no clue."

"Yeah,"

"I mean, all we've done is go over the syllabus, like, eleven times. That and reviewing solving quadratics, so unless she plans on having a quiz on that she's out of her mind because…"

Claire didn't mean to, but she began tuning out Lauren's ramblings. She just couldn't focus this morning. She kept on thinking about last night, about Sookie and if she was ok. Despite what Eric said, she still thought the monster was originally after her. Sookie had saved her life by redirecting it, making Claire feel responsible for what happened. She knew the doctor had worked on her, and she knew Bill had given her his blood, but it hadn't worked once, maybe it wouldn't work again. What if the doctor didn't get all the poison out? What if she's become immune to vampire blood's abilities? As much as Claire liked Ginger, everyone knew she was one beer short of a six-pack and was more likely to scream than help Sookie if she needed it.

"Claire? Anybody home? Knock knock?"

"Who's there?" asked Claire mechanically.

"Little old lady," said Lauren, playing along.

"Little old lady who?"

"I didn't know you could yodel!"

"Yeah,"

"Oh my God, Claire!" Yelled Lauren, finally capturing her friend's attention.

"What?"

"You're totally spacing out on me! Come back to earth Neil, Jesus."

"Sorry, I'm just a little distracted."

"Oh," said Lauren, softer this time. She put her hand gently on Claire's shoulder, "Are you feeling alright? Is everything O.K. at home?"

"Hm? Yeah, we're fine," Said Claire, her mind venturing back to Fangtasia, "I've just been thinking lately, that's all."

"Oh, well you know, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here, O.K.?"

"Yeah,"

Lauren took her hand off her best friend's shoulder, and gazed at her with worried eyes. She worried about Claire, more often than she'd like to. She had been through so much traumatic stuff in her life; stuff other people only saw in movies. It was too much to carry all alone, yet she rarely talked about the accident or anything that related to it. She mentioned bits and pieces from time to time, sometimes out of the blue. Lauren once asked her why she kept it all in, why she didn't talk about it.

"Sometimes it's better to just try and forget. To pretend it never happened." Was her answer, but Lauren wasn't having any of that. She was stubborn.

"But Claire, it's too much for you to handle alone. Just tell me and let it out.

"Telling you would only resurface what I have been trying for years to bury. Would you want to remember what it felt like to have your skin boil? To listen to the cry's of your family as they burned to death? To wake up screaming because you forgot you were blind? Because I don't. I don't want to remember that."

Lauren didn't ask anymore after that. Instead she went to Ms. Winfield, who was nearly the opposite. She let everything out, told her the complete story. Lauren was a little surprised when she opened up so quickly, but absorbed every detail like a sponge all the same.

"First bell's in a couple minutes,"

"Oh, I guess we should go then."

The day dragged by slower than evolution. Everything the teachers said just went in one ear and out the other, the same with everyone who talked to her. She just couldn't get her mind off Fangtasia, it was like a curse. During Chemistry, while she was supposed to be learning about bonding, a picture of the bar came to her mind. It wasn't a vision, but a patchwork of other visions that gave her a broader view of the place. After working for Eric all summer, she had compiled quite the profile on the establishment. She knew what Pam, Chow, and Eric all looked like from seeing them in her visions, and she had seen the layout of the establishment many times over with her second sight.

She pictured the main room in her mind, centering on the tables. She wondered if Sookie was still laying on one of them or if they moved her to something more comfortable. She saw Eric's chair, or rather, his throne at the front of the room. He sat there in most of her visions, watching over the bar with Pam and Chow flanking him on both sides. They were the two he would send onto the floor when he wanted something, or someone. The view moved to the right and she found a door where his office must lead, then another door that led to a hallway. She had only been down there once and didn't know much about it. Next to that door was the bar where she had seen Longshadow attack Sookie all those months ago. Next to the bar, there was a door. She didn't remember ever seeing this door before, but she was drawn to it. It made her feel cold and clammy, like she was in a cavern.

_Is it a supply room? Is this where Eric and Pam sleep?_

"So elements are a lot like teenagers. Unless they're a noble gas, they generally like to bond to other elements in order to feel complete. To complete their orbital, remember? Some bonds are stronger than others. Some elements will grab hold of each other and say 'I am never going to let you go!' These are called covalent bonds. Claire? Are you with us?"

Claire felt someone nudge her. She turned to whoever it was and whispered, "What?"

"Wake up, he called on you."

"Oh," said Claire with a start and turned to the front of the room. "Could you repeat the question, sir?"

"You've already answered it," Claire furrowed her eyebrows. "I need you to pay attention, Claire. Back to bonding, then. Some elements don't bond as strongly and can be separated easily. You know, _those _couples_._ These are called Ionic bonds. Then there are those very narcissistic elements that like to bond with themselves, they're called polyatomic ions…"

By the time lunch rolled around, Claire had begun thinking about her vision. She had come to realize it was a flight chart, but she still couldn't figure out why it was important. Most of the chart had become blurry to her now, except for that one line about Dallas. She didn't think anyone she knew was leaving town soon.

_Is this a sign of something bigger? What if this isn't about anyone I know, what if it's about a major disaster? Is it telling me that the flight should be delayed or that it shouldn't?_

A hand landed on Claire's shoulder, causing her to jump about a foot in the air.

"Hey, it's me!"

Her shoulders relaxed as she turned around to meet him. She sensed him ducking downwards, so she stood on her tip-toes to close the remaining gap. Their lips touched in a moment of perfect harmony. Her world stopped.

"I missed you this morning," She whispered. "It must've been some party."

"Would've been better with you there," He murmured back, smiling. She giggled lightly in return, slipping her hand from his jaw backwards, tangling her fingers in his soft locks. "What kept you?"

Claire's finger's stopped their twirling. She pulled away from him, remembering.

"I was uh, just studying," she lied, her hands falling from his shoulders to his wrists. She hated lying to him. In all the books she read and all the shows she's watched, lying was the number one no-no for couples. But she had to lie to him, for his own good. Roy saw her backing away from him and wouldn't have any of it. He grabbed her wrists and gently pulled her closer until she was pressed against him, eventually wrapping her arms around his hips.

"What could you have been studying for? It's only, what, the third day of school?" He asked, trying to remain casual. In actuality, he was seriously confused. He never took her for the try-hard brainiac type, so to hear she was replacing their time together with studying reeked of dishonesty. Claire turned on a playful smile, locking her hands together just above his behind.

"I'm starting the year off right, I want it to be a good one." She slowly laid her head against his chest, so firm, yet soft. She listened to his heart beat, skips faster than hers. She took it to be his athleticism that made it beat faster. He was so warm, so perfect.

Roy bent his neck to rest his chin on her head. He took a breath and instantly smelled the sharp, nose-clearing scent of mint. On the second breath, he smelled something else, something familiar. It was fresh and clean, it reminded him in the nicest way of his grandmother.

"It will be a good year, you just wait and see," he whispered onto her scalp, tickling her roots, hoping he was telling the truth.

* * *

><p>Later that night, Claire sat out on her front porch swing, waiting to see headlights pull into her driveway. Her mother had left for work soon after her daughter had gotten home, working nights again. Claire made sure to tell her she would be going to Lauren's house to do school work and wouldn't be back till late. No questions were asked.<p>

In fact, that was near the same answer she gave Roy in the parking lot when he asked her if she wanted to grab a snowball later.

"I'm really sorry, but I can't. I've got this paper to write," She told him, not entirely lying. She did have that paper with the SAT words to write for Friday. She only had half of the definitions and not a clue what she was going to write about. She couldn't say anything about working with vampires, and she definitely wasn't going to share about the parties she went to.

"What if I make it a real date 'n take you to Merlotte's?" He asked, sliding his arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer.

"That's so sweet of you, and very tempting," She said, leaning into him. I was hard to tell him this, she wanted more than anything to go with him and just forget about Fangtasia for a while, but she had an obligation. "But I really can't. You'll just have to wait for the Bonfire tomorrow night."

Roy pulled his arm back and gripped the key in the ignition, turning it until the engine fired to life. "You better not make this a habit, blowing me off to go study or whatever." He mumbled, half hoping she heard him and half hoping the engine covered his words.

The engine didn't cover his words. Claire's hearing had heightened since she now relied on it more. His words hurt her; she already felt terrible for neglecting him, he didn't need to shove it in her face. She knew he was too good for her and this just proved the point, but what could she do to show him she was sorry?

It was a little after seven at night, nearly an hour before sunset. Eric had told her that John would be picking her back up even before she had the chance to ask. It sort of surprised her. She half expected Eric, and fully expected Bill, to kick her out of the loop, to close the door on the matters in an "adult's" world. She expected them to force her to stay home so somebody could come back and give her the PG version of what happened later. She expected some sort of "earmuff". But Eric, he didn't do that. He made sure she would be returning to see the end of this movie. He respected her, treated her the age she proved herself to be and not the one on her birth certificate, which made her like him all the more.

Claire heard a car in the distance, and soon the blackness lightened until it was bright white. She heard a car engine grumble for a few moments before it all stopped, the lights, the noise, everything. She was already standing, her cane out and ready to swing when she heard the footsteps that caused her porch steps to creak.

"Hey, you need any help?" asked John, trying to be polite.

He had done a lot of thinking this morning. After he dropped Claire off, he went back to his apartment and couldn't get back to sleep. It was already half past four, he would be waking up in two hours anyway under normal circumstances. He sat at the two-person table in the corner of his kitchenette, nursing a cup of coffee, lost deep in his thoughts…

_That girl…Claire…She can't be in their debt, they wouldn't care enough to get her a ride if she was. She's too young too. They'd have to turn her over to the Pigs like they did to the other kids. No, she must be on the in with them. Is that possible? Do vampers even keep humans in their circle?_

"I've walked down these steps thousands of times before. I think I'll survive," said Claire, stepping past his outstretched hand. She may be blind, but she wasn't helpless. Sometimes she did need assistance, but not when she was leaving her own house.

In the car, John tried to make small talk with her, keeping the radio quiet, but still on, to avoid any awkward silence. He asked her about school, the weather, her family. Claire tried to dismiss it as him being friendly, but it just seemed so odd. What would he care about her life? She couldn't help but feel uneasy. She wasn't getting any bad vibes from him, but something in her gut was telling her to be careful.

Before Claire got out of the car at Fangtasia, John programmed his number into her phone.

"Now I don't mean to stick my nose in your business, but you're just so young. You remind me of my niece, you know that? I don't want anything to happen to you like it happened to her. Now if you'll let me, I'd like to give you my phone number, just in case. I know for a fact that you haven't told your parents anything about this, simply because I know I haven't either. So if you ever find yourself in a spot of trouble, you just call on me, O.K.?"

Claire smiled at him, touched by his kindness. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I wish someone had done it for me," he said, telling only half of the answer. "Now go on, don't keep 'em waiting!"

She smiled at him as he gave her phone back, freshly updated. "Thanks," she said while opening her door. He watched as she tapped and swung her cane to find her way into the building. He smiled as the door closed, a strange glint in his eye.

The quite, syrupy sweet atmosphere that John had created with his kind words was shattered when Claire entered the building. Sookie was yelling at Eric, screaming at him. Eric was the calmer one in the argument, but that didn't make him any less intimidating. Bill seemed to be trying to mediate, keep them from killing each other.

"…Have any idea how long we have been looking for him?"

"Is it somewhere around the two weeks he has been missing?" Eric replied sarcastically.

"You say that like it's nothing!"

"Sookie, please," implored Bill. She had already been attacked once this week.

"It _is_ nothing. I could have done much worse."

"I don't doubt that, you cold hearted-" began Sookie, gearing up for some serious language that would make her Gran roll over in her grave.

"You clearly do as you continue to provoke me," he interrupted, taking a step towards her, his voice deepening.

The cold door finally slammed shut, signaling Claire's entrance. She simply stood in the entryway, waiting for the children to calm down. She couldn't believe _this_ was what she walked in on after spending all day worried sick about Sookie. Upon seeing her, the argument stopped. A moment passed before Eric stood up straight and took a step back, regaining his composure. Sookie tugged at the hem of her oversized Fangtasia t-shirt, as if Claire could tell she was half naked.

Once the room had been quiet for a full ten seconds, enough to let everyone calm down, Claire stepped forward, swinging her cane to avoid any tables.

"I take it you're feeling better, huh Sookie?"

"Much," the flustered telepath replied.

"Why don't we take this into my office?" Suggested Eric. It wasn't like there were any people in here to hide the conversation from. Pam and Chow would be able to hear them from three blocks down, and Ginger had already left since the bar was closed tonight, thanks to Sookie. His office just gave him an aura of power, a sense of authority. It was a psychology thing, and he used it to his benefit.

Sookie looked at Bill, who simply shrugged his shoulders. She looked back at Eric, who was now giving her a small, cocky smile. She returned the grin with her own sarcastic version and stormed into his office. Feeling the tension rising again, Claire sighed.

Eric sat in his leather chair, resting his arms on the dark wooden desk. He created a bridge with his fingers, an unconscious habit that came out in serious situations. He had been making this pose too often recently. Ever since vampires came out of the coffin, problems that would have been minor have become serious. Gone were the days where draining a human wasn't an offense and you could kill a vampire because he looked at you funny. Now everything had to be politically correct and you not only had to follow vampire law, but human law too. He didn't like it.

Claire followed him around his desk and ended up standing to his right side, facing Sookie and Bill across the wooden fence. The blonde was still extremely angry at Eric, but now she was thinking. Eric liked trades, bartering, a shadow of his past that never quite left him. But what could she possibly give him in exchange for Lafayette's freedom? He already had money and power, not to mention women falling all over him. Plus, she had already played her trump card. He already had her telepathic services on-call.

"You can't keep Lafayette in the basement like that. It's inhumane!"

"Well it's a good thing I'm not human then,"

"If you don't let him go-" Eric leaned forward in his chair, giving her a look that could paralyze a man. But Sookie was not a man. "I will call the police."

That was the last straw. He had put up with her yelling at him, even slapping him, but this was it. He had been losing the upper hand in whatever this relationship was simply because he didn't want to hurt such a pretty face. But that was over now. He wasn't some Bill Compton she could push around like the maneater she was. His fangs ripped from their sheaths and he bared them at her. She took in a sharp breath, and her heart rate quickened.

"Perhaps I haven't told you this before, but let me make myself clear now. I. Do not. Respond well. To threats." After lingering a few seconds to let the message sink in, he withdrew his fangs and Sookies eyes returned to his. "But if you want him so bad, perhaps we can some to some sort of an arrangement."

Sookie took a step back and looked at him skeptically. She saw how he had been looking at her, and was pretty sure she knew what he was going to ask. But she had to try anyway. "If I did accept this 'arrangement', what exactly would it entail?"

Eric smirked. "Accompany me to Dallas. There, your telepathic talents will be used to help find a vampire that has gone missing."

"No!, Sookie you-" Began Bill, but Sookie just held her hand up to him, cutting him off.

"And that's it? Just go to Dallas, help you find this vampire, and you'll give us Lafayette? There's nothing else?"

"Well, that and you'll have to keep Claire company on the plane. God knows the kind of a trouble a teenager could get into 35,000 feet in the air."

Claire tried to hide her smile as the three adults worked out the details. Despite calling her a teenager, he wasn't treating her like one. She was going to Dallas with them. She was not being left at home because things could be too dangerous. She was being treated how she always wanted to be; like an adult.

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**A/N: Hey! So I'm going to be away this coming week, but I already have most of Ch 19 finished so it will be up as soon as I get back. I would love to hear your predictions on what you think is going to happen so I know if I'm leading you down the right path or not. Then again, if a lot of people believe the wrong thing, it will make for one heck of a plot twist! Remember to vote on my poll on whether or not to let Godric meet the sun! It is entirely up to you my readers! **

**Thanks for reading!**


	19. Chapter 19

Ch 19

A person asks themselves many questions in their life. How many tablespoons are in a half-cup? Which came first: the chicken or the egg? How many roads must a man walk down? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? But right now, as Claire was ghosting through another day at school, she only had one question in her mind: Why does time move slower for those who are waiting?

Chemistry. She could already tell it was going to be her worst class. School normally wasn't this hard for her, but the mix of vampire drama she had been dealing with and her lack of an adequate calculator made learning dimensional analysis extremely hard.

"So let's start off easy with some unit conversions. Thirty-two meters into feet. Put the thirty-two on top of the fraction bar and below it put a zero for your placeholder. Now that whole fraction multiplied by a conversion factor of how many feet are in a meter. Anybody?"

He called on a girl near the front, who told him there are 3 feet in a meter and he continued. Claire banged away mindlessly on her ancient Perkins Brailler in the back of the room. It was loud, bulky, and heavy as anything, but way easier (and faster) than a slate and stylus. Plus, it was a gift, not from her grandmother, but from her father.

"So now let's try something that you'll actually use. You wish you heard that more often, don't you? Let's go to volume conversions which you'll need for your lab next week. Which reminds me: You have a lab next week. First lab of the year, pre-lab's due the day of, we'll be learning lab equipment tomorrow."

Claire began typing his sarcastic quip before realizing what she was doing and stopping herself, causing the teacher to look up due to lack of clanking. She pulled the page of notes out and slid in her to-do list of school assignments, typed, and then switched papers again, trying to catch up to the man who was halfway through the example problem.

Lunch came, and not a minute too soon. She had skipped her morning Froot Loops because she woke up late, forgetting to plug her alarm clock back in when she got home last night. And it was a long night, even after she left Fangtasia…

Eric had made the effort to drive her home since Claire reminded him they still had to deal with the "parental situation". He had done this for her many times over when her own lies had fallen through or when she had been caught sneaking back in at two in the morning. However, this time it was different. She would be away for days now, not just the night. This lie was going to have to be a little more creative and thought out than the usual memory wipe.

She had to wake her mother up at two AM, an hour after she had gone to bed after getting home from work at midnight. She pulled her downstairs, telling her there was someone she needed to see.

"What are you doing awake? Do you know what time it is?" She said groggily, stumbling as she began descending the stairs.

"What are you talking about mom? It's only eight," she said, beginning the lie they came up with in the car.

At the bottom of the stairs, standing in all his glory to greet Mrs. Winfield, stood Eric. He smiled up at her and caught her gaze. In mere seconds, he took her mind into his hands and molded it like dough, compressing it until it was a dense, marble sized orb. He pushed that orb to the farthest corner of her brain and then some, shoving it into a crevice where it wouldn't be seen or heard from. Eric then entered, taking a seat at the control panel to do his work.

"How nice to meet you on this fine evening Mrs. Winfield."

"Evening," she breathed, confused. He said it was evening, so it must be, but her bedroom clock said differently. Had the power gone out while she was at work?

"Why yes, it's about eight pm." The woman smiled; comforted in knowing it wasn't the middle of the night. He could never be wrong. "My name is Eric Northman, I'm a representative for the American Foundation for the Blind."

Mrs. Winfield let go of her daughters hand and went the rest of the way down the stairs to greet her guest, slightly star struck. After all the phone calls and letters, she had finally gotten a meeting with a representative, and a handsome one at that.

"Please Mr. Northman, won't you take a seat?"

"That won't be necessary; I won't be here for very long. I just wanted to inform you personally that Claire has been chosen to attend a conference for the Blind and Vision impaired in Dallas."

"She has?"

"Why of course, she is…" Eric paused, his head tilting towards Claire who was skeptically awaiting whatever adjective he chose to describe her. "… Quite a special child."

Claire smirked at his choice of words. She was more special than her mother would ever know. Her smile began to fade as Eric continued feeding her the lies. She didn't like manipulating her mother like this, it made her feel sick. She knew she shouldn't feel this way, teenagers lied to their parents all the time, right? Paige definitely did, and Roy probably did too. Not wanting to listen anymore, she snuck away to her room as Eric finished up and began pulling things out of her closet and drawers. A few minutes past before she heard a tapping at her window. She went over and opened it, letting Eric come inside.

"The plane leaves at six pm tomorrow, I will arrange for Sookie to pick you up at five,"

"The flight's going to be delayed."

"Excuse me?"

Claire stopped shuffling through her closet and turned to face him. "I had a vision that a flight to Dallas would be delayed, and I think it's the one we're taking."

Eric nodded to himself and looked down to her floor, littered with several pieces of seemingly blank paper. Being a vampire, he could immediately tell that they were not blank but in fact had many small, raised bumps on them. He stepped around them to go to her dresser, eyeing the little baubles and trinkets she kept there. He picked up a decorative polished oyster shell and opened it to find a medium sized pearl attached to a thin gold chain.

"She'll be calling your school tomorrow to alert them of your absence." He said closing the oyster and placing it back on her dresser next to a raggedy, black, beanie baby cat.

"Oh, good! I forgot about that." She said, tossing another pair of jeans onto her bed. She heard a knock at her door and froze.

_Shouldn't Eric have sent her back to bed?_

"Sweetie, I have something for you."

Claire turned to where Eric should have been, the spot where she last heard him speak, but he was gone. Only traces of his musty, spicy smell remained. She wasn't really surprised; he tended to leave without saying goodbye.

"Come in," Claire answered.

Her mother slowly opened the door, struggling to hold a very large, navy blue plaid, rolling suitcase. Claire heard the hard plastic backing smack against her door and bedside table, she felt heavy steps vibrate the floor. When Mrs. Winfield finally heaved the behemoth onto the twin bed, Claire was a little surprised to hear the springs creak.

"I thought you might need a suitcase for the trip," She said mechanically, still sounding out of it. She unzipped and opened the top for her before yawning. "I'm going to bed."

Claire listened as she walked out of the room, the soft shuffling of middle-aged lady feet. No hug or kiss, no "I love you"'s, no actions that would mark them as family, not even a "Goodnight". Although it sounded bad, Claire enjoyed the distance, the freedom…

She felt Roy slide in next to her at the lunch table. She quickly put down her sandwich and wiped her mouth. Twice. One of her biggest fears was having food on her face or in her teeth and not knowing it. She took a swig of her water and swished quickly before turning to him, expecting a hello kiss, but he had other plans.

"Hey, you!" He said, wrapping his muscular arms around her for a hug. She went along with the hug, wincing slightly when he patted her back. He noticed. "Are you pumped for the Bonfire tonight?"

"Um," Claire faltered, she had forgotten all about it.

"Don't tell me you forgot!" he said, trying to sound playfully exasperated when he was just the opposite. "You're not avoiding me, are you?"

"Of course not!" She answered truthfully, but somehow it still came out sounding fake.

"Good, then I'll pick you up at, say, half past five?"

"Sounds great," she answered, trying to sound happy when she was actually torn inside. She would only be able to stay for an hour, maybe two, before she had to leave for the airport.

_Should I tell him the lie now or later? Would I be able to convince him in person?_

"Good," he said, kissing her forehead.

After school that day, Roy waited for Claire in the parking lot. She told him at lunch that she would be late, she needed to talk to a couple of teachers. He was chatting up Kitch, asking him if they needed anymore booze for the Bonfire when a vision in red appeared in his peripheral.

She was wearing a candy apple bandage skirt hitched up so just an inch of fabric was between her thighs and her ass. Her legs were perfectly tanned to the color of honey, and smooth as plastic. She had on a loose black blouse tucked into her skirt, which made her small chest seem bigger with the help of a push-up bra. He could still see the dark roots coming through her dyed blonde hair, just like always, but it was longer than he had last seen, and blown out to look full of life instead of the thin straw it actually was. Her eyes had rims of black goop, a few notches down from being a raccoon. She smiled at him, her lips painted in a shiny, sticky looking red that made him feel if he looked at them any longer, he might get stuck.

"Hey Kitch," she purred, before turning to the redder of the two, "Hey Roy."

"Paige," he said, looking everywhere but at her, afraid his eyes might wander. "What are you doing back here? You graduated."

"You know, just visiting some old friends,"

"Did'ja come from school just now?" Asked Kitch shyly.

"Naw, work."

"Last I checked the strip clubs don't hire until you're twenty-one." Paige's eyes snapped to Roy as Kitch snorted, trying to hold in his laugh.

"Are you trying to compliment me?"

"I'm trying to tell you that you look like a porn star,"

"Oh please, you've seen me in much less," she said, her voice deepening as she leaned forward.

"Ok, looks like I'm checking out of this conversation," Said Kitch, lifting his hands as he started walking backwards towards his own car.

Paige took a step closer to Roy, her heels clicking on the pavement. Roy found himself frozen to his spot, as if she was a magnet keeping him from getting away. His hand itched to move, but he kept it still on the hood of his car. Paige looked down shyly, and when she glanced back up she saw someone emerging from the school, two heavy bags on her shoulders and a long white pole in her hands. Her eyes lingered for a moment to long, causing Roy to look behind him too.

When he saw her, he quickly tried to move away from his half-clothed ex-girlfriend, but she matched his every movement, following him.

"Oh please, It's not like she can see us," whispered Paige. "Besides, she's with that hippy friend of hers. How are you two, by the way?"

Roy looked down, then quickly diverted his eyes away from her chest and onto the hood of his car. He wasn't sure how to answer her question, how they were doing. Did he like her? Yes, that much he was sure of. She was good-looking in a hot babysitter, girl-next-door, cute waitress kind of way. She was sweet but assertive, intelligent but not cocky, someone that pleased the man in his mind and, hopefully, in his pants. Lately though, she was acting distant. They hadn't gone on a date in a while, always saying she had something else to do. Her newest excuse was schoolwork, but he didn't believe that. He saw straight through her act simply because he himself was a pro at it. But avoidance was something he did to girls, not the other way around.

"Oh, things getting rocky? Hm? Hit a rough patch?"

"Go away, Paige."

"Hey now, I'm just trying to help. I am a girl you know, I know what girls want." Paige paused, tapping her splatter painted nails on the hood. She looked over Roy's shoulder to peek at Claire again, who was now slowly making her way towards them. "I know what Claire wants."

She saw it, the flicker in his eyes. He was interested. He had done everything right, he had been a gentleman, listened to her, made an effort to be with her. It was more than he could say for some of the other girls he'd been with, but it still wasn't enough for Claire. He felt like she gave him no love in return, or at least he kind of love he was looking for. They hadn't even gotten past first base.

"I'm afraid I'm losing her, Paige." He whispered. She smirked.

"Let me smear some college grade knowledge on that head of yours. The number one way to bring a girl back to you, is to fuck her." Roy couldn't believe what he just heard. He looked at her as if she had just grown another head.

"What the hell are you getting at? Your college friends teach you that?"

"Psychology, asshole. And I'm serious, banging her creates a chemical in her brain that makes her more attracted to you."

"Bullshit."

"Fine," said Paige, raising her hands up in defeat. "But don't come crying to me when you catch her with someone else because you didn't give her any,"

With that, she turned around and sauntered off, the parking lot her runway. He couldn't help himself from watching, her backside was practically calling to him. She always knew how to get his and every other man's attention.

_Could she be right? Is that what Claire wants?_

* * *

><p>Roy was surprisingly quiet on the ride to the park for the Bonfire. Usually he was all talk, but not tonight. She got nervous vibes from him and she was pretty sure she knew where they came from.<p>

She heard Paige talking to Roy this afternoon, and she heard the sound of stilettos when she walked away. When she asked him about it, he became flustered, dismissing that she was even there. Claire let it go, knowing she wasn't being the best girlfriend either, blowing him off for Eric all the time.

_An eye for an eye_, she thought as they pulled off the paved road and onto the grass.

He didn't talk to her much in the beginning of the party either, other than asking her about three times if she wanted a beer. After a few times, she had had it with trying to be causal about declining him.

"Roy, for the third time, I don't want a beer. I can't have alcohol with the meds I'm on, O.K.?"

"Oh," he said, backing away with the red solo cup he had poured just for her. A few steps away, he chugged it. Although Claire didn't see him do it, Lauren did. She saw the redness in his eyes, a redness you don't get from wood smoke. She walked a good three meters away from the Bonfire to sit by Claire.

"Is he taking you home?" she asked, sitting down on the oversized blanket.

"He should be," she answered, picking at her nails nervously. Lauren looked back up and watched him stumble back to the keg.

"Well, if it doesn't turn out," she said, keeping her eyes on Roy, "You could always ride with me and Carly. She's DD for our group."

"Thanks," Claire said, not seriously considering the offer, but appreciating it nonetheless. She swatted a mosquito on her knee before changing the subject. "How's Cross Country?"

"Ugh! Hell Week was awful this year, we did suicides for ten full minutes and I just wanted to die."

"I'm sure it was nothing for you. Now if it was me on the other hand…"

"You wouldn't need to run in the first place, you're so skinny." Claire snorted in response, slapping her legs.

"Tell that to these thunder thighs!"

"Don't even talk to me about thunder thighs," mumbled Lauren, finishing her cup. "I'm out of booze. I'll be back, don't have too much fun without me."

Claire smiled as she listened to the grass swish and crunch under Lauren's feet. She heard someone plop down beside her again, someone heavier. He leaned closer to her, and she felt his hot breath on her neck. She giggled as he made little kisses starting at her collarbone, tracing his way up her neck, kissing the soft tissue behind her ear, and finally making his way to her lips. He kissed her forcefully, using one hand to reach behind her head and grasp her neck and the other to hold his cup.

"What's gotten into you," she whispered when he released her to breathe.

"You," he whispered, kissing her again. He leaned on her heavily, almost pushing her down. She put a hand on his shoulder, gentle pushing him away. She was still a lady, she wasn't going to roll in the dirt, sucking face with him in front of her peers.

"What's wrong?" he asked, inches away from her face. "Don't you like me?"

"Of course I do! I just don't want to play tonsil tennis with you in front of all these people,"

"Well would you rather do it somewhere private?"

"Well, yes, but-" she started before being cut off by Roy grabbing her arm and pulling her upwards.

"Well then, let's go!" He said, swallowing the rest of his beer and dropping the cup in the grass.

"What?" Said Claire, giggling nervously at his spontaneity. "Where are we going?"

Roy didn't answer her. He just kept on pulling her through people, tugging her dangerously close to the Bonfire. Claire tried not to worry, they were just going to canoodle in his car, kiss a bit before she told him she needed to leave. Yes, that was it, she would stop it before things got out of hand.

He led her off into the maze of cars, haphazardly parked by freshly licensed teenagers. When they reached his blue sedan, he stopped and yanked her arm, making her spin wildly into his awaiting embrace. She laughed at the thrill as she pried her arms from his chest and hung them over his neck, bringing his head, his lips, down. The moment they touched, her head exploded like it was full of pop rocks, and her body tingled like she had cherry cola running through her veins. Roy removed an arm from her waist and pulled the door open, slowly walking her backwards, coaxing her into the backseat.

Their mouths had to part as she ducked her head to get in the door. He followed suit, closing the door behind him. She looked a little fuzzy, but he blamed it on the lighting. Her hair was a little messy and a corner of her shirt had pulled up to reveal a thick strip of her soft skin. It was plump and pink and perfect to grasp, nothing like Paige's bony hips. He leaned forward to find her mouth again, reaching for that ever so beautiful exposed skin in the process. When their lips met, Claire felt the electricity start again, beginning in between her shoulder blades. She moved her fingers into his hair. She had a small obsession with his hair. It was so soft, and just the right length to twirl between her fingers. She didn't know what color it was, but she imagined he was a brunette, just like her dad.

He started out gently touching her, lightly holding her as if she were made of paper lace. He couldn't scare her away by moving too fast, especially on their first time. As hard as he tried though, his crotch took over eventually and became dictator of his body. He slid the hand that was resting on her hip upwards sharply, pulling her shirt with it, until he could feel the curve of her waist. She flinched at his movement, and before he could really register what the ridges he felt were, she moved his hand away and pulled her shirt back down.

"No," she breathed, trying to put some authority in her voice.

He had been with enough girls to know that it was in their nature to resist. They played this mind game with their partner, they had to resist sex either to seem more innocent to their partner, or just because they liked making it more of a challenge for a man to get laid.

Roy felt that he knew pretty well how to tell a real "no" from a fake I'm-being-coy "no". There were a certain number of times she would say refuse before giving up, a certain level of resistance, a certain degree of pressure you could put on her. To his slowed brain swimming in fermented grains, she was putting up the typical fight a fake "no" would. He pressed on.

"Come on baby," he whispered, showing her a droopy smile meant to calm her down before putting his hand back on her waist.

He leaned in, kissing her again, clouding Claire's judgment. The fizzy energy coursing through her made it so much harder to move his hand away from her waist, her hip, her thigh...

"no," she muttered, but the word was swallowed by Roy's kiss.

His hand crawled further, sliding down from the top of her thigh. She pushed away from him gently, not wanting to ruin the moment. His hold didn't break, the hand that pressed against her lower back was now traveling also, upwards. She felt it find the band of her bra and begin to pinch, looking for the clasps. For a male, he sure knew how to multitask.

She tried to pull her face away, but he followed her, forcing her down. She pushed harder against him, but he held fast. Her body went into panic mode and the electricity she once felt turned into adrenaline.

"NO!" she shouted, ripping her face from his and shoving with all her might. Surprised, he released her. She slide until she hit the other end on the car. She took a few deep breaths before settling enough to say in a shaky voice, "I'm... I'm not ready. For this."

Roy looked at her, dumbfounded. Seeing her shoved against the car wall, as far away from him as she could get, sobered him. She didn't want to be near him. She was _scared_ of him. He felt like a monster.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching out to touch her face, to comfort her. He understood now, she wasn't playing a game, she meant it. He wanted to make her feel better, but she wasn't ready for an apology. She heard the seat squeak under his body weight and felt it move. Her body tightened and she sucked in a breath.

"Don't touch me," she hissed and he drew his hand back. "I want to go home."

"Babe,"

"Just take me home."

She waited until she heard the door open and shut before she switched sides of the vehicle, the spot farthest from the driver's seat.

_Don't cry, don't cry_

She buckled her seatbelt, the straps against her chest feeling like arms, like hands, touching her. She shuddered, resisting the urge to unbuckle. She didn't need to give the cops anymore reason to pull them over. She heard his door open, and him shove the key in the ignition.

"Claire, I'm -"

"Now." She demanded shakily. She tried to remain as rigid as possible, as still as possible. She squinted her eyes to hold back tears, ground her teeth together to stifle a cry. She locked her hands in fists, her nails digging into her own palms.

_Do not cry. Not in front of him. Do NOT cry_

It was only after he had been driving down the back roads, a few minutes before he reached the two street long hub of Bon Temp, that she realized two things: one, he was wasted, and two, she had to be at the airport in the looming future. She couldn't trust him to drive all the way to her house the airport and back the way he was. And, once again, her mother was working the night shift. She thought about calling Sookie, but she was busy enough already with having to be at work today. Plus, she didn't want to seem like a burden on her. Children were burdens, adults were helpful.

She gripped the door as Roy made a sharp turn. He hadn't said anything, and that was exactly how Claire wanted it. He once told her he was so quiet because Paige usually did the talking. He made another right turn, and then a left before she felt the car slow down. They were in her neighborhood.

He pulled up next to her driveway, not able to pull in because of the two identical white cars in the driveway. Claire grabbed her cane, which she had left in the car during the bonfire, and patted her pocket to make sure her phone was still there.

_"…If you ever find yourself in a spot of trouble, you just call on me, O.K.?" _

She exited the car and didn't say a word. She tried to ignore the fact that he hadn't pulled away yet, even as she made it to the front doors. Truly, he had been watching her as she walked straight through the leftmost translucent twin car. He watched her as she made it to those front doors, all the while thinking why he had done it. He knew she wouldn't be up for it, instinct told him so. So what convinced him otherwise? Then he realized.

_Her_, he thought pulling away from the curb, narrowly missing a garbage pail. _It's all HER fault. She suggested this, she knew this was going to happen._

He had stayed awake long enough in Drivers Ed to know that driving drunk and driving while on the phone were deadly by themselves, so he refrained from fishing his phone out of his back pocket and instead chose to plan the bitch fest he had in store for his college psychology student.

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**A/N: Gosh, my chapters are getting long! The season one chapters averaged at about 2,800 words per chapter, but season two averages at about 1000 more words per chapter! I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am, because believe me, I am!**

**Chaos-and-Insanity asked that I not let Roy "turn out to be a complete asshole", and you know what? I think you have a good point. Why use him as a stock asshole-womanizing-boyfriend character? I kind of like the idea of a nicer layer to Roy. Thanks for the suggestion!**

**Before I go, just want to remind you to vote on my poll on whether or not Godric should meet the sun. Ok, I'm leaving now, bye!**


	20. Chapter 20

Ch 20

She unwrapped the blood pressure cuff from drowsy teenager's arm, smiling that reassuring smile like it was her job. Which, in a way, it sort of was. She was employed to help the sick, and they seemed to feel better when people smiled at them. It didn't matter that he didn't smile back; he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Go ahead sweetie, close your eyes," she whispered, folding up the cuff. "You're going to be ok."

She didn't even finish her sentence before he was dead asleep. Mrs. Winfield turned to his mother, who was also looking very tired as she sat on the couch under the window.

"There is a pillow and blanket in the closet, feel free to use them." The weary woman gave her an appreciative smile. The nurse smiled back and left the room.

Walking down the hallway, she found no quiet from the constant beeping and buzzing, the swinging and slamming of metal doors, the shouting and crying of patients, family, and staff. This used to be the acme of excitement for her, the epitome of what it meant to be a nurse. This used to be where she felt her sharpest, where she was on top of her game. This was her temple.

Lately though, it's felt more like, well, a job. Eight hours that you ghost through with no personal attachment. Temperature, blood pressure, IV, chart, reassure, leave. She didn't even make the effort to remember the names of her patients anymore, she just referred to them by room number, or even worse, illness.

"Appendix in two-eleven is asleep," She said to a passing nurse who was guarding a cup of coffee as if it was the nectar of the gods. Anne caught a whiff of the caramel colored liquid and weights were added to her eyelids.

_You're halfway through. Four more hours,_ she thought. _Can I go without coffee? Will I be able to sleep if I do?_

She thought about her home, and what was waiting for her. She had a load of whites to do, and a load of delicates. She had to fold the pants lying in the laundry basket. There were dishes in the sink no doubt, and if she didn't dust the living room soon someone was going to asphyxiate. She'd ask Claire to strip her bed before she went to school tomorrow so she could wash sheets and…

_Claire, _she remembered. She wasn't home. She was in Dallas. _When will she get back? How did she get chosen to go to this conference?_ The more she thought about it, the more of a headache she got. It had been happening more often lately, getting headaches.

_It must be the stress,_ she thought, _all this worrying about graduation and college._ _Maybe this conference will give her some guidance, answer some questions._ She felt another roll of pain wash over her. She raised a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. She remembered how her mother, Phyllis Garder, Mémé to Claire, had gotten awful headaches when the climate changed and wondered if she had the same sixth sense. It was a few days till the official first day of fall, but the weather gods of Lousiana didn't seem to know that. Hell, it'd been so hot the past few days, you could practically walk around _naked_ in the middle of the night and not even catch a chill. The sleep depraved, irrational side of her thought that her headaches may come from a parasite that bore into your brain, like on that episode of _Monsters Inside Me _she caught yesterday on the Health channel.

_I really need coffee._

* * *

><p>"I've never been on a plane before!" Gushed Sookie, settling in one of the plush, cream color seats. It felt like a recliner you would sit in at a furniture store, except it had a seat belt. It was soft leather, with a smooth plastic cup holder in between the two seats on each side of the aisle. "I never expected it to be this fancy! I feel like a celebrity!"<p>

"They're usually not," said Claire, also plopping down in a seat. She didn't think airplanes had changed that much since the last time she was in one, even if it was ten years ago. She laid her school tote bag on the ample floor space while sitting her Brailler case on her lap. She wanted to keep her hands and mind occupied so she wouldn't be able to think about what happened earlier that night. So far, it was working. It only helped that she was already behind on _so_ much homework, and it was only the first week of school. She was going to have to talk to Eric about this.

The plane felt way more spacious than your normal Boeing 737, and smelled better too. It smelled _normal_, not the artificial oxygen smell other airlines had. It was also quiet. Claire remembered there being a lot more noise on her previous flights, not necessarily from the plane itself, but from the people. She whispered, "Is there anybody else here?"

Sookie peeked her head around the corner of her large chair and saw only empty seats. She caught a flicker of movement at the end of the aisle and saw a flight attendant close the door to the outside, cranking a handle to lock it. "I guess not." She said giddily. She turned back to Claire, who was struggling to pull out the clunky machine on her lap. "Aren't you excited?!"

"I guess so, but It's not my first time in the air," She replied. "I used to fly to see my grandparents in Maryland. Twice a year, round trip, once before school in August and once before Christmas, like clockwork. They had this brick house with a tree that had the prettiest pink blossoms. They would fall like snow in late spring," She paused, noticing her error. "Or so they told me. I never got to see."

How would she know about the spring blossoms if she had only ever visited in fall and winter? She hoped Sookie didn't catch her lie, as it only too obviously was. She dreaded the questions she would ask is she caught on, the ones that would wake the tombs of her buried memories. Then again, maybe she was just being paranoid. It seemed to be a side effect of working for vampire CSI: Bon Temps.

Something else that worried her was how easily the words bubbled to her mouth. She was losing track of who-knew-what about her, and secrets were becoming harder to keep now that they weren't so secret anymore. She had always kept her second sight and her stained past locked away, but once that lock was broken, it was never as strong as it was before. She hated that, the fact that she couldn't rely on herself to stay silent. She hated having to be extra cautious whenever she spoke.

Like a true southern woman, the words that Sookie picked up on were the juicy past tense of "used to" and "had".

"Do you not see them anymore?" She asked innocently. Claire considered lying, but then thought_, eh, what the Hell? Tons of people have deceased grandparents. _

"No I don't, they passed several years ago."

"I am so sorry," She said, reaching out to touch her hand in what Claire thought was a comforting gesture, and it might have been, but Sookie had a second motive. "My Gran died too, this summer actually."

"Oh, well I was at her funeral. I, um, never got to say how sorry I was for your loss." She lied. She didn't even know Adele. That was another thing she didn't like, her growing capacity for lies. Just another side effect of the job.

The telepath continued holding her hand, searching. This wasn't a premeditated strike on Claire's mind, it was just what happened when Sookie touched someone. It was like instinct; touch somebody, read their mind. But it was blank, empty, and dark, darker than if she had been glamoured. She searched harder, sending out her wave-like telepathic fingers to tickle her psyche.

Claire sniffed. She felt an itch on the back of her head, like a shiver. Something told her to move her right hand to scratch it, but that was the hand Sookie was touching. Would it be rude to break away? It had already become an awkward length. Against instinct, she itched with her left, but it didn't go away.

Sookie kept moving the fingers, eventually hitting a wall. A clear glass wall, surrounding her consciousness, locking it up. She could see nothing inside of the orb, but an invisible power was tangible. It felt like a shook-up bottle of Coke, or a hose with a kink in it. It was a glass orb, a crystal ball, overflowing with raw energy. Her telepathic fingers reached out and grabbed it, hoping to get through via osmosis.

"Ow!" Shouted Claire, yanking her hand away and slapping it onto the side of her head. Sookie too was shocked. She had been so absorbed in trying to read the girl's mind that she had blocked out everything else.

"Oh my gosh," she whispered, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "I can't hear you."

"Excuse me?" Exclaimed Claire, her hand still rubbing the side of her head. She though it must have been a pinched nerve or something, because there was only the memory of pain now. Sookie reached out and grabbed her head, as if there would be a tag behind her ear that explained why she couldn't read her mind. "Hey!"

"I just can't believe this! Vampires are the only other things I can't read, but you are clearly not a vampire so," Sookie let go of Claire's head and fell back into her seat. "What are you?"

"You know what I am," Claire grumbled, annoyed as she ran her fingers through her hair to fix the damage the crazy blonde lady had done to her 'do.

"But that shouldn't keep me out of your head."

"Maybe we just run on different frequencies. I'm tuned to the future, and you're tuned to the present."

"But, you're alive and talking to me right now in the present. You're tuned to both, so why can't I hear at least the 'present' you?"

"You see, I don't think I am. Eric and I have discussed this before; as a blind person, I can't see anything except major variations in light. I don't know the color of your shirt or what your face looks like. Everything is dark all the time. I have all my other senses, except for sight. When I'm having a vision, I can only see. I can't hear or touch or smell. I only have the one sense I'm missing in the present, my sight. So, my eyes are tuned to the future."

Sookie leaned back in her chair and contemplated her words. It all sounded nice, but it still didn't answer her question. How did her lack of vision deal with her thoughts? And Claire wasn't always tapped into the future, that was what her visions were for, right? She had little "jumps", she didn't constantly look in.

The flight attendant came by and asked them if they would please buckle their seatbelts, they would be taking off shortly. She gave them a short spiel about safety procedures and then told them she would come back in a moment to take their orders for anything they would like. When she left the two girls fumbled with the straps before Sookie leaned forward again in her seat.

"I still don't get it. I'm reading your thoughts, not your sight. I should still be able to get in."

Claire gave a sigh. "I'm not a neurologist, Sookie. There is only so much guesswork I can do. I understand this, this _curse_ just as much as you understand yours."

"It's not a curse, Claire. You should embrace it."

"That's easy for you to say. You've never had to hide your gift, people have always known. And you've been able to control it, decide when you want to listen in and when you don't. I don't have that luxury. What I am controls me. It's painful, scary. I've seen people _die_, Sookie, people I know. I saw 9/11 two days before it happened and couldn't say a word. I was scared for what would happen to me, of what they do to me, that is if they didn't think I was a terrorist."

At the word "terrorist", the flight attendant appeared in the aisle. Claire heard her clear her throat before she asked "Is there anything I can get you to drink? We do have an open bar tonight for those of you that are of age."

"Wow, open bar?" Sookie muttered as Claire wondered when she had ever heard of an open bar on a plane. Sookie glanced over at the teenager as she ordered water and thought,_ why not celebrate my first plane trip? _"I'll have vodka, please."

Claire raised her eyebrows as the stewardess inquired the brand.

"Grey Goose," she answered, smiling away. She never drank at home, and ordering alcohol made her feel giddy, as if she was a teenager again, sneaking liquor from Gran's cabinet. The stewardess nodded and left.

"Can they glamour you?" asked Sookie, unexpectedly.

"No," replied Claire, reaching in her tote and pulling out a package of blank white paper. She sat it on the plush seat on her right, the one closest to the aisle. Even though she was blind and wouldn't be able to see the view, she still chose the window seat.

"Do you think that has to do with the, the different frequencies?"

"Could be, but I think it has more to do with the fact that I can't see them. I can't look into their eyes."

Sookie hm-ed as she watched the teenager feel around in her bag for a moment before pulling out a green plastic binder with teal puffy paint that spelled out "CHEM" in block letters. She flipped through the pages, her right hand rubbing the bottom of each before turning to the next one. Claire finally snapped open the rings and pulled a piece of blue paper out.

"Would you mind reading this for me, Sookie?"

"Oh, um, sure," she said, reaching out and taking the paper from her. "Measuring Volumes Lab. Label test tubes using the wax pencil by lettering them A through F…"

* * *

><p>"Élise Louviere," she mumbled as she typed the name into the system. She hit the Tab key, jumping to the next blank. "Room three-o-two."<p>

Updating patient information wasn't the most exciting of tasks, but right now she really wasn't looking for excitement. She pressed the "Save" button at the bottom of the screen, submitting the new patient into the hospital's database. She glanced over to the flat screen fitted in a corner of the lobby. It was set on the news all day, as that was the one channel that incited the least controversy. At least it was, before the vamps started clogging up the screen with their translucently white faces and red-rimmed eyes. The reel had just flipped to a dark forest scene, one she recognized as a commercial for Trueblood.

_Speak of the devil…_

She watched as a bunch of laughing men drank beers around a campfire. The angle changed to a view of the men from behind the trees, like the perspective of an animal watching them. All of a sudden, a vampire pops up behind one of the men, baring his fangs, causing him to jump up in fright while the other men laugh. It was clearly a prank, as the vampire starts to laugh too with the rest of the guys, asking if they have anything for him to drink. They hand him a bottle of Trueblood, which he pops open and sucks down as if it was just a regular ole beer. The scene flickers to shots of the men laughing, playing guitar, and having a good time.

She looked away as the next commercial came on. She had seen vampires before, in stores and such, and she had even had the opportunity to meet one at the beginning of the summer when she went to the Decedents of the Glorious Dead meeting. So far they didn't seem so bad. She could even relate to them in a way. They were misunderstood, judged solely on their past and not on what they were doing now. They were also in some trouble with the church-going crowd, something she could relate to as well.

She flipped to the next page and was about to start typing again when someone walked through the metal doors behind her. It was an intern from the community college, a young man about twenty years old. He was medium sized and had short auburn that was spiked in the front. She watched him walk around the large semi-circle that was the front desk, looking away when they made eye contact. She wasn't looking at him because he was amazingly attractive (he was only mildly good looking, and besides, she wasn't looking for a younger man), she was staring because he had two small scars on his neck, silvery white, and about an inch apart.

He ignored her and continued around the desk, taking a seat at an adjacent computer. He began typing in his own notes, only getting through a few lines before leaning over to her.

"Hey, did you hear about that party going on tonight? The one over by the Stackhouse place?"

She chuckled and said, "Does it look like I go to many parties?"

"Naw, but, it looks like you need one. I know I do."

"What I need is a big cup of coffee," She said, turning back to typing. The intern lingered nervously, fidgeting with his lanyard.

"The reason I was asking was 'cus, um, I was wondering if you thought I might, uh, be able to get off early?" She turned to him slowly, raising one eyebrow. The interns aren't even employed yet and they are already looking to skip work. He was giving her a comical pleading look, complete with a nervous, toothy grin. It reminded her of the time Claire found that lizard in the backyard. She brought it into the kitchen, locked between her little fingers, and tried to "give it a bath" in the sink. When Mrs. Winfield had walked in on this scene, she had begged her mother to keep it, just for a little while, until she could find its family. Like every mother, Mrs. Winfield had said no, put it back outside where you found it, it's best to leave the wild _in _the wild and not in the house. The memory softened her and she smiled, the whole façade melting like cotton candy in a child's mouth.

"Oh all right," she muttered. "I'll say something to our supervisor."

"Oh, thank you!" he said, relaxing into his chair. "You have no idea how much I need this!"

She chuckled with him for a moment before asking, "So, what's the occasion for the party?"

"Oh, it's Tara's birthday."

"That's nice; Sookie's throwing her a party?"

"No, this lady Maryanne is. Actually, I hear Sookie's out of town. Some business in Dallas I hear," He dropped his voice and whispered, "With the vampires."

"Dallas?"

* * *

><p><em>The summer before ones senior year in high school is often seen by adults as a bacchanalian festival, the participators in which are abominations to society, as least for the next three months. The older crowds are naturally cantankerous this time of year due to the humidity rusting their walkers and wheelchairs, and are therefore more sensitive to the rumspringa of the freshly licensed masses. They often give lengthily harangues to their checkers partner, or even the local authorities if they are feeling rather temerarious. The reasons behind their quarrels are abstruse to many, but to this writer, they are completely transparent. The fact of the matter is that they are simply envious of the youth's continuing celerity, and depressed at their own gloaming curfews. <em>

Claire stopped typing as she rubbed her fingers over the Braille list of SAT words she had to shove into her essay about her summer. She couldn't help but notice that her teacher had an odd obsession with the melancholy. There wasn't one happy word on this list.

"Another drink, Miss?" said the flight attendant, leaving the eighth bottle of Grey Goose on the fold out tray next to Sookie's copy of SkyMall.

"Oh, no, I really can't," the blonde woman replied in vain as the attendant quickly left. Sookie sighed and reached out to put the bottle in her purse. Claire listened as the ribbed glass bottom of the mini liquor bottle scrapped against the plastic tray, and then clicked musically with the other six bottles in her purse.

"If you just leave it out, she'll stop giving you more," whispered Claire.

"Oh I just can't resist. These bottles are so cute and mini, like booze for dolls!"

Claire chuckled and went back to her essay, banging away a few more lines of intelligent sounding nonsense, feeling like Beethoven on her Perkins piano. All of a sudden, she heard a beeping noise and stopped typing, just to make sure it was really there. After waiting a few moments, she snapped her head forwards.

"Sookie," she whispered fiercely, "you're not supposed to have your cell phone on!"

"It's not on," she whispered back, both confused and curious at her random outburst. Claire slapped her pocket where she kept her phone.

"Is it mine?" she whispered while contorting herself to dig it out while seated.

"What are you talking about?"

"Someone's phone is ringing. Can't you hear it?"

"No," she replied cautiously. "Have your ears not popped or something?"

Claire was silent for a moment before she said, very quietly, "You, you can't hear any buzzing? Beeping?"

"No," she said slowly.

"Hm," began the Seer, wondering. "It must just be the altitude doing things to my head. Different frequency," she continued, tapping her head with a knowing smile, trying to play off her little episode. She tried to go back to her essay, but the beeping distracted her to the point in which she couldn't concentrate. The overhead clicked and gave a little feedback before the sharp voice of their stewardess spoke.

"Please buckle in your seatbelts; we are going to begin our decent into Dallas in a few moments."

The women did as directed to, and Claire began to clean up her papers and her Brailler. All the while, the beeping continued, never changing in tempo or dynamics. Soon, she could feel the plane dip as their decent started. Sookie giggled excitedly, saying something about how it felt like a rollercoaster.

She spoke too soon though, because just a moment later, they hit turbulence. For nearly five whole seconds, the plane bounced and shook, like an earthquake. The bottles in Sookie's purse clanked, and her tote bag tipped a few degrees too far and fell from its vertical position. Claire's head swung back and hit the cushiony headrest, which oddly felt like a wall. Once the shaking stopped, she released the hand rests from her death grip and felt the back of her head. She could hardly register the words coming from the thick southern accent of their pilot through the crackling garble of the overhead. It sounded like an apology.

"Hey, are you O.K.?"

She felt the dull ache of pounding waters crash against the back of her head, and then swirl closer to the front. Back and forth, back and forth. Every time one step closer to the front of her head, one more notch up on the scale of pain. She furrowed her eyebrows.

_The flight was delayed… Turbulence… was it a warning?_

"It's just a headache," Claire mumbled, not to reassure Sookie, but to reassure herself. _No, NO. I would have known earlier. Why would it tell me so late? Why didn't I listen to the safety procedures?!_

She reached a hand to press against her forehead, releasing a shaky breath.

"Do you want a Midol or something? I think I have some in my purse," Sookie offered, reaching down to the liquor-stuffed white bag.

"No," she snapped, slightly breathless. She sucked in a snort of air through her nose, then released it slowly through her mouth, like a child making moisture clouds on a cold day. As all of the air left her lungs, she opened her eyes and could see.

_There was a man, not too tall, but stocky, standing in front of a black limo with a small sign that read "Compton Party". Other than looking slightly nervous, the man physically showed no signs of malicious intent. He looked like any normal person. But Claire knew better. She felt an aura of danger, of conspiracy. This man was not what he looked, he was hiding something. She didn't need to know what it was, all she needed to know was to stay away from him. The scene began to fade, just as a small sneer split across his stoic visage._

"Anubis Airlines welcomes you to Dallas, the most vampire friendly destination in all of Texas."

She gasped for air, as if she had been underwater. She felt Sookie's hands on hers, and a pain like pins and needles all over her head.

"Sookie!" she snapped, standing up to get her hand off her. "What the Hell!"

"I just wanted to help, it looked painful!"

"No shit it's painful! It's also painful when you try to break into my head so quit it!"

Claire slumped back into her chair and huffed for a moment, trying to calm down. Not used to being talked to so rudely, Sookie sat for a moment and swallowed the unchristian words she wanted to say. She then grabbed the tenth bottle of vodka the stewardess left her off the plastic try and stood up. She smoothed her yellow flower printed skirt, waiting for Claire to join her. When it became apparent she wasn't, she ahem'd for her attention.

"Come on, get your stuff, plane's landed."

Claire remained seated and, very calmly, said, "We can't leave yet."

"And why not?" asked the telepath, feeling a little sassy after being told off by a child.

"Because there's a man outside, waiting to pick us up." Sookie responded with a moment of skeptical silence. "A _dangerous_ man." She clarified.

"Well he can't be that dangerous if Bill hired him."

"I saw him Sookie, he's going to take us."

"That's kind of the point, ain't it? Maybe you just got a wire crossed up there," She said, turning to enter the isle.

"Damn it Sookie, listen to me!" She yelled, slamming her hand down on the armrest and jolting out of her seat. She was sick of them not listening to her. They had no reason to be skeptical, yet they still were. "You will NOT leave this plane until Bill escorts you down those steps, do you understand?"

A breath caught in her throat from the shock of this little girl screaming, and someone, several feet below them, felt it. Faster than a cat can blink, he appeared next to her.

"Sookie, what's going on here?"

"Claire thinks there's a strange man outside," She muttered to him skeptically. Claire rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, not helping her attempt at appearing mature.

"I wouldn't doubt her, she hasn't been wrong yet." He threw his arm over his lover's shoulder and smiled at her before looking back to the irritated Claire. She was shooting him icy daggers from her cold, blue eyes. He wasn't taking this nearly as seriously as he should. He let go of Sookie and said earnestly, "I'm sorry, would you like some help with your bags."

"I'm good thanks," she replied, tight-lipped.

_This is bullshit, neither one of them takes me seriously. Have I not proven myself? _ she grumbled internally as she collected her things and followed the couple outside.

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**A/N: Hey guys, hope you liked the chapter. I feel like I should do something special because it's the 20th chapter, but I'm not really into all that mumbo-jumbo, so I'm gonna pass. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, there wasn't much action, just a bit of information on Claire, and some stuff with her mother because we haven't looked at her in a while. I'm going to try to put more humor into my writing because I feel like it's getting a bit "blah". I like to think I'm a humorous person, but it really only shows when I have people to bounce off of in the real world, so if it ever sound like I'm trying too hard in my writing, call me out. **

** I'd also like to call attention to the fact that It took a while for me to update. (I feel like I say this every time I leave a notation. You should all really be used to it by now, so I don't know why I feel like telling you all the time.) This time I don't even have a good reason to be late. I wasn't away on vacation, my power wasn't out, I wasn't in jail. I simply found a *gasp!* new obsession. It's this really small science fiction T.V. show, you might have heard of it. It's called Doctor Who.**

** I tend to obsess over a lot of things, but like most people, I obsess _hard, _which is why they sputter out and die when I run out of fuel for my obsession. The thing with Doctor Who is, there are so many more resources available to fuel the flame of my obsession than _any other thing I've ever been obsessed with._ There are 784 episodes (and counting), numerous novels, comic books, a movie, 4 spin off series, video games, plus the tens of thousands of fanfiction available and more. So in short what I'm saying is, watch out guys, this is gearing up to be a chronic case of Who Flu that not even the Doctor himself can cure ;) **

** It also means that my writing will be far and few between (but that's a given with me) and will probably contain hidden references. Sorry for the nonbelievers!**


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